


The Public Menace of Queens

by pollutedstar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Civil War Fix-It, Civil War Team Captain America, Crying, Daily Bugle, Even though Tobey Maguire will always be in my heart, Family Feels, Five Stages of Grief, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, I promised vine and I gave vine hell yeah, Mentor Steve Rogers, Not Tony Stark Friendly, Not any Vine references yet but I promise there will be, Peter Parker canonically has a giant celebrity crush on Thor and who am I to deny MCU canon?, Peter Parker is gen z, Peter Parker is the gen z who watches vines and you can't change my mind, Photographer Peter Parker, SHIELD, Sokovia Accords, Sort Of, Spider-Man deserves better than Tony Stark and that's the tea, Tom Holland Spider-Man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollutedstar/pseuds/pollutedstar
Summary: Peter Parker is just trying to make a living as any teen would, selling good pictures of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle and watching Vine compilations, when the Sokovia Accords are signed. Now he has to grapple with the fact that the way he's been upholding the law is illegal, and how much he desperately wants to keep his identity a secret while also helping his city. He's on his own, with no superheroes to save him but himself, while having to lie to everyone he cares about. When he makes the crucial decision between his city and its law, he draws attention from both the government and unexpected help.





	1. The Sokovia Accords

**Author's Note:**

> I've been super into Spider-man since I was a kid, and was so excited to see him brought into the MCU. I was pumped to see Tom Holland cast as him, but when the movies came around? It was so Tony-centric! It felt like Peter Parker really didn't have his own arc, and was wildly out of character for most of his scenes. Marvel made his relationship with Tony manipulative, controlling, and unhealthy, and treated it like it was the gold standard for a mentor-mentored relationship.
> 
> I also noticed that Tony never really informs Peter about what the Accords are, and I truly think that he, as a character, would be against them. So I took matters into my own hands and wrote a new character arc for him, while giving him an independent story and a relationship with his Aunt May that Marvel never seems to address. Later, after he's more developed, I will be giving him a mentor, who will be much better to him than Tony Stark was, in my opinion. The major alterations I've made so far include:  
> Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> And Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle to make money on the side
> 
> I've also made a few references to the Tobey Maguire Spider-man movies, but this does take place in MCU.
> 
> I'll list all relevant and key differences between canon and this work at the end notes of each chapter as it continues.

The TV is playing news that’s impossible to believe when Peter and Aunt May start to sit down for dinner. Captain America? A wanted criminal? Two phrases that should never be pieced together. Peter pulls out his phone as May makes her plate, typing in the “Sokovia Accords” that the reporter keeps talking about. She seems just as unsure as he is, like she’s reading words off a page that she still hasn’t fully registered.

His phone nearly clatters to the ground when he pulls up the links.

Registration. DNA samples and on-record fingerprints. Power analysis. Border restrictions. Detained. War crimes. 117 countries. A United Nations panel deciding who gets saved when.  _ Enhanced individuals. _

Peter stares at his wrist, where a small, raised bump has been for nearly six months, now. Didn’t that make him an “enhanced individual?” Did that make him dangerous? He had only been trying to help, and he made sure not to hurt the criminals he caught, just wrap them up until the police came. A registration for people “like him” could mean a lot of things. Would they all have to stand in front of the press and announce their identities like some kind of ritual?

Aunt May sets her plate down on the table before strolling to the TV with an annoyed sigh to turn it off. “You can’t watch the news these days without seeing something like that. All these superheroes and whatnot. It’s crazy.”

Peter barely recognizes his own dazed words. “Um, yeah. Really crazy.”

“Peter? You alright?”

He can’t answer. He can’t stop looking at his wrists, his phone screen having long since turned off. What is he going to do? He can’t register, he can’t make himself known like that. What about his family and friends? He can’t put them in danger. He refuses to. But he can’t help people anymore without registering, or else he’s breaking the law. The whole point of what he’s doing is to uphold the law, isn’t it? The only option seems to be to stop helping people, and there’s no way in hell that’s ever going happen. Does he break the law to save the law? That doesn’t make any sense, come _on, Parker, just think this through-_

Suddenly May’s hand is on his shoulder, and he looks up to meet her eyes out of surprise, and she seems so  _ worried, _ about a problem she doesn’t even understand, and he can only imagine how much more worried she’d be if he were to tell her what’s wrong.

His mind makes itself up in an instant. He will not register. He’s kept this secret for months, and now is not the time to tell. He’ll figure the rest out later.

He comes up with the first excuse that rolls off his tongue that makes sense why his phone just caused him to have a near-meltdown. “It’s nothing, just Tony Stark being a public asshole again.”

Aunt May’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mentally curses himself. “I mean, a jerk, a public-”

“Yeah, no, you can’t go back on that one. I’ll let it slide for now, whatever he did must have been pretty bad, but don’t expect this kind of leniency next time.”

He nods, and while she asks him about it and he makes something up, he pretends that he isn’t imagining how much worse this would be if she were to know everything.

 

May falls asleep on the couch while the two of them are binge-watching crime television shows, and he’s gone, into his room, the moment he hears her snore. He needs more information. A  _ lot  _ more.

During the time it’s taken him finish dinner, Tony Stark has already released an official statement to the press. Peter grabs his emergency bag of chips stashed in his desk and clicks on the video, figuring he has to start somewhere.

When the ads finish playing, Peter is greeted with Stark standing in front of a podium, cameras flashing at his every angle. He reads directly off the cards in his hands, and Peter can’t remember the last time he had seen him read an actual, written-down press release. “I did not agree with everything in the Sokovia Accords, but I understood their necessity. I understood the need to have them. The Avengers, along with other enhanced individuals, have acted independently and without control for far too long.”

Peter rolls his eyes and angrily spins in his desk chair, knowing there is nothing else he can do.  _ Of course _ Stark agrees with the Accords. The guy has nothing to lose. He’s already in the spotlight 24/7, and everyone he cares about has fifteen bodyguards and a $12.4 billion net worth as a shield.  _ Not all of us are that lucky, _ he thinks bitterly.

“And I will say that the Avengers inspired some of that. We drew a lot of attention, both as individuals and as a group, and the years that we acted as our own lawmakers, judge, jury, and executioner were inappropriate. Unfortunately, not everyone could see the need for the Accords, not even within the Avengers, and see the need to take responsibility for one’s own actions. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like for the greater good. We make sacrifices along the way. Steve Rogers was a close friend and colleague of mine, but I, and Stark Industries, cannot and will not condone his actions, his harboring of a war criminal-”

Here, a particular question cuts above the rest from an attractive reporter in the front row, only a few years older than Peter. “Mr. Stark, isn’t it true that Sergeant James Barnes was taken prisoner by HYDRA and was brainwashed into commiting the crimes he’s being accused of?” he demands.

Tony freezes and clenches his jaw, and for a brief second Peter sees something hot and bitter sink into his eyes, before Tony continues as if he hadn’t heard the question. “His. . .his harboring of a war criminal and his own violation of the Accords. Stark Industries dissolves any and all connection between itself and Steve Rogers, and pledge our full support to the Sokovia Accords from now on. Thank you.”

He steps down from the podium, the reporters exploding even louder, questioning everything. “So the Avengers have dissolved as well?” “What about Thor and Hulk? Do they choose to sign the Accords?” “Will you be giving the Iron Man suit up?” “Have you officially retired, then, Mr. Stark?” “Will Stark Industries return to making weapons if the Iron Man days are over?”

He makes no comment, and is ushered away from the crowd, and Peter makes an ugly noise at the back of his throat before shutting his laptop. He had wanted to do more research, but now he’s buzzing with pent-up frustration that he can’t expel. He goes to pick up his phone until he remembers there’s no one to call. No one to text. He’s on his own and it looks like it’s going to be a lot harder than he thought.

He stands up, aggressively pacing through his room. He’s completely stuck, trapped in a way that makes him feel panicky. Sure, being Spider-man has been a secret of his for awhile, but it had never been something that he would get locked up for. He just wants to help people, because he knows the feeling of  _ not  _ being able to help someone.

_ “With great power comes great responsibility.” _

For a shuddering moment, he remembers a dark alley and a pool of blood that isn’t his but he can feel draining nonetheless, and he doesn’t want to remember that, so he angrily shoots a web at his wall before he even realizes what he’s doing.

It’s been awhile since he’d shot a web without a device on his hand that made the shot more controlled and accurate and silenced the action. His webs aren’t  _ loud _ per se, but they were loud  _ enough, _ and he freezes as he wonders if he woke up Aunt May, if she’s going to come barging in any second and panic like she has a right to when she sees what he’s done. What he’s been doing for the past few months, and why he was so worried at dinner, which will just make  _ her _ worry.

He hears no noise coming from the apartment, and he thanks his own dumb luck. He shakes his head, feeling the hot-cold shame crawl up his face, staining him as red as his eyes are quickly becoming.

He can’t do things like that. He can’t lose control like that. He’s dangerous now, he’s the public menace that _The_ _Daily Bugle_ always calls him. He can be put arrested for something as stupid as getting upset and web-slinging like it’s some kind of right of his.

_ Arrested. _ It’s a real possibility now. What he’s doing is vigilantism, and if anyone finds out anything about him, then he could be put in cuffs. Would he have any chance? He’d get a judge and jury, of course, but who knows if they’d even believe anything he would say. He’s a fifteen-year-old, (a good-for-nothing, out-of-control,  _ enhanced _ fifteen-year-old, in fact), about to go to jail. Of course he’d say what he was doing was for the common good.

He can’t stop pacing, his heart pounding so loud he’s shocked he can hear anything else, but he can; he can hear  _ everything _ else, and all his senses are skyrocketing past even what their normal enhancement levels are. His spidey-senses are exploding, but he can’t pinpoint the danger, and his breathing is uneven. The air feels too rough against his skin, and it gets even worse when his pacing increases, so he stops pacing entirely, which still doesn’t fix it. His skin is heating up faster than he can even try to cool it down, turn on a fan or something, and he thinks he might be being crushed from all sides, but especially his chest and he can’t see what’s crushing him, but he feels it, he feels overwhelmingly small and insignificant, yet terrifyingly important and watched at once, and he’s scared, more scared than he remembers being even on his worst nights of Spider-man. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but he just wants it to end, but it won’t, it won’t it won’t it won’t-

Hands are on him, and his skin hates it so much he leaps away, but not nearly as far as he would if he was in his right mind. This is the danger, the hands, the air, the everything, everything is danger.

Vibrations are scraping his ears, and he knows someone is talking but he can’t understand anything being said to him. He feels like he’s heating up, like he’s going to explode. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t have to worry about the Accords and morals anymore, he’ll just be a little heated  _ boom _ before nothing at all.

He doesn’t understand the voice, but the undercurrent hits him like a buried instinct. He knows the beat, the quiet humming. He’d recognize it anywhere, he’s heard it so many times from when he was younger.

His vision is blurred, so he only vaguely recognizes the form in front of him, but the quiet song is something he can understand. It used to be his Aunt May and Uncle Ben’s song.

May reaches for him, and this time Peter doesn’t jump away; instead, he goes towards her, his crying getting softer as his breathing begins to regulate when she rubs his back and quietly counts his breaths. He feels stupid and awful for waking her up, for dragging her into something he had explicitly not wanted to involve her in, for having a goddamn panic attack bad enough that his throat was hoarse from panting and sobbing. He hates himself for what he’s doing, and how much he’s probably worrying her, but he clings to her, anyway, because he needs her and she’s here for him, like she always is.


	2. New-SHIELD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spider-man has seemingly disappeared from New York, and Peter is on a downward spiral that everyone can see. His friends grow suspicious as he distances himself further, and his Aunt May grows worried.
> 
> But even when Spider-man is gone, he doesn't stop making trouble for Peter Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awesome getting comments from people who are just as frustrated with MCU Spider-man as I was! Thanks for giving this story a look, even in its fledgling stage. I hope I can live up to what Spidey fans deserved from the movies, but haven't gotten.
> 
> I debated for awhile whether or not I should post this chapter yet. I have about four and half chapters already written for this story, and I figured I should space out updates, that way if there's ever a point where I just can't write for a few days (especially with school starting within the next week), I'll still have a back-up chapter to post. The deciding factor of this choice came down to the fact that I have no self-control, so here's another update! Lol, I hope you guys enjoy it! Again, any relevant changes I've made from MCU canon to this story will be listed at the end notes.

May doesn’t ask about the webs on his wall, and he is both grateful and terrified. What if she knows? There’s no way she doesn’t, now, but the webs are gone by the time Peter fully comes back to himself, after she gets him a glass of water, so maybe they already dissolved. It usually takes an hour, two with his web shooter that he had designed, but maybe it had been so long since he’d done it straight out of his bare wrists that they were weaker. Or maybe they naturally were weaker when he was frustrated. Did hormones affect his webbing? Normally, he would begin running experiments, but it’s too much of a risk. He might get caught, he might be exposed, people he loves could be put in danger.

After a few days with no mention of the webs from Aunt May, although a suggestion that he might want to think about looking into therapy again, he convinces himself that she must not know, somehow. And, again, he thanks his own dumb luck.

Aunt May is only half of his problems, though. As time passes, someone else grows suspicious: New York.

It’s three months after the Sokovia Accords and his outburst, and he hasn’t gone out at night once. He thinks that maybe he can free up his time, now, return to his friends and the life he’d had before, but it doesn’t happen. He’s too paranoid to develop any connections, in case someone finds out and goes after Ned or Liz or Aunt May or any of his other friends. The nights he usually had spent out on the streets are now spent in, sitting at his laptop, pretending not to glance at where his suit is hidden every few minutes. For some reason, he just can’t force himself to destroy it.

He tells his friends the same excuse he’s always told them: busy night for  _ The Daily Bugle. _ The newspaper would hire him for his weirdly good, exclusive, close-up photos of Spider-man, and his friends knew it. But, with Spider-man never coming around anymore, his excuse is beginning to wear thin.

Liz snaps one day and tells him that his job at the newspaper is starting to consume his time and he has to figure it out before his whole life falls apart in front of him. He doesn’t know how to respond, because she’s right, but in a whole different way than she thinks she is.

“It’s,” he starts, not sure how long he can keep this lie up. “It’s a, a good job, Liz. It’s got a promising future. It’s important.”

“More important than yourself?” she counters, and he almost breaks. He wants to tell her, he wants to tell  _ someone _ , wants to explain to her that this is so much bigger than himself. The world is more important, the people of New York will always take priority, and the law is bigger than anyone. He just doesn’t know what to do, because suddenly his very existence is breaking the law, the world has decided he is dangerous, and the people of New York keep screaming, but he can’t help them.

He has an awful poker face, and she must see his fear, his tense shoulders and shaking hands, and she sighs.

“Peter, I’m just worried about you. I’m. . .” she hesitates briefly, before she finally admits, “I’m worried it’s not  _ The Daily Bugle _ keeping you away at night.”

Again, she’s right, but in the wrong way. “No, it’s nothing like that! I’m not, like, doing drugs or anything. Nothing illegal or, or, harmful.”

_ Your existence is harmful, this need to be some sort of vigilante is illegal _ , he thinks to himself.

She shakes her head, and he knows she doesn’t believe him. He wouldn’t either, in her place. Ned hasn’t believed anything he’s said in months, none of his friends have, but Liz is the only one who’s finally demanded an explanation.

“Whatever. Just, get help if you need it, Peter. Your eyes look like you haven’t slept in forever.”

He lets himself start breathing regularly again once she’s out of sight, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. The weight on his chest still sits hard, and even when he gets back to his apartment he doesn’t feel safe. He just wants to check on his suit and hide for the rest of the night; he can’t remember the last time he’s felt an urge to do anything else.

When he opens the apartment door, though, Aunt May is sitting on the couch next to two police officers, and a woman in a menacing suit stands next to her. May’s eyes meet his and both of them feel terrified at whatever information the other knows.

“Peter, these officers say-”

“We’re here to take you in for questioning,” the standing woman interrupts, gesturing from the police to where Peter remains frozen at the door. The officers stand up, and he instinctively steps back.

“Questioning for what?” he demands.

“We can’t say at this mo-”

“What are you guys, some kind of new SHIELD?”

The woman tightens her lips when he says that, and fresh panic hits him.

“You guys can’t just take me in without any reason-”

“You had better explain what the hell is going on here, because if you lay one hand on my kid-”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to stay out of this-”

“I am his legal guardian and you will answer me right now or I-”

The woman interrupts with, “We are taking him for questioning over a potential violation of the Sokovia Accords,” and Peter feels his stomach drop. He instinctively looks in the direction of his room before staring at the floor, hoping no one saw him give away the location of his suit so obviously.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responds in a tone he hopes sounds neutral. May is staring at him, like pieces of a year-long puzzle are starting to click into place.

“Mr. Parker, it’s going to be easier if you just come with us.”

May unfreezes at that, ready to defend Peter, even if she’s not exactly sure from what. “That’s not near enough information, what did he violate? How? Peter has nothing to do with those superhero types, he-”

“Ma’am, we believe he may know something about the harboring of an unregistered, active, enhanced individual,” the woman finally snaps.

“What?” he demands, both terrified and confused now, because “harboring?” What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Give it up, kid,  _ Bugle  _ sold you out,” one of the officers sighs, and–

Oh.

Had Jameson figured it out? Finally put together that there was only one way his star photographer had been getting his photos? He bitterly remembers, not even half an hour ago, defending the paper and all the good it was doing him.

“You guys just want me for questioning?” he finally asks, hesitant.

“Yes, we want to know what information you have. If you just confess, we’ll probably cut you some slack, alright?” the officer that hasn’t yet spoken says.

Peter resigns himself. He needs to know what this is about. He needs more information, and to know what they know. And, if it turns out he’s being arrested—his heart clenches at the thought, but he forces himself to breath—then he’ll deal with it when it comes. No need to act suspicious now and build their case for them.

“Alright, I’ll go.”

“I’ll come with you.” May stands to grab her purse, but an officer stops her.

“It might be better for us to take him alone.”

A furious look crosses May’s face. “Excuse me? He’s a minor-”

“May, it’s okay. I’ll be fine on my own.” Peter glances at the woman, and when he looks at her hand on her jacket, realizes she has a gun. His hair stands on end, his spidey-senses kicking in at the least helpful moment on record, and he swallows hard. He knows how SHIELD handled their problems, and he has no doubt that new-SHIELD is no different. He looks back to his aunt, smiling in the most genuine way he can muster. “We wouldn’t want to cause any problems with the officers. Just a few questions, right?” He pretends his voice doesn’t go up at the end, along with his heart rate.

The woman smiles coldly at him, nodding.

May must see something in Peter’s eyes, because she doesn’t argue as he’s walked out of the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> Peter sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle
> 
> I also will be doing some significant time leaps throughout this fic, and kind of already have, so if anyone needs a sort of timeline of events in here with the differences, I can do that?


	3. Watch the Gap Between the Law and Morality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is taken in for questioning for his claimed violation of the Sokovia Accords, but how much does this agent know? How much will Peter accidentally give away? And, most importantly, if this is what the law is, what's the use in defending it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I went a whole day without posting before I was like, "!!! But!! We could do it! Again!!" so here we are.
> 
> Thank you all so much for commenting on and reading this story! I really didn't think anyone would read this, let alone be as passionate about the Accords and Peter as I was, but it's so nice knowing other people feel the same way and have an interest in where this is headed.
> 
> Again, relevant changes are listed in the end notes. And I'm real sorry about this, but in one of the next few chapters, I'm going to have to make a pretty significant change between comic-Peter's backstory and this fic, to have it still make sense within MCU canon. It's difficult writing this story with him being so young, and I've had to switch some things around. :( But, the main themes of events will remain the same, and the rest will be more on-par with canon!
> 
> Sorry my notes are always so long, but we can finally get to the story now, and this chapter ends a little happier than the two previous! Enjoy!

They don’t cuff him to the table when he enters the interrogation room, which is a good sign, but probably the only one he’s going to get. So far, he’s tallied the bad signs to be the fact that the car he was driven in in had tinted windows and had _not_ looked government-issued, the interrogation room he is in is very far away from the rest of the interrogation rooms, he has yet to be told he has the right to an attorney, he has no more information than he had had at the apartment, and the door to the room is solid steel with several deadbolts.

Oh, hey, the deadbolts aren’t _locked,_ though, so that’s another good sign.

Not locked yet, anyway.

A new officer walks into the room, followed by the woman who was at his apartment, who’s carrying a thick briefcase. His hand twitches nervously on his thigh.

“I, um, have the right to a lawyer, right?” he manages to get out, which draws a cruel grin from the woman.

The officer, who is now standing across from him and has the name “Brown” on her badge, shakes her head.

“A Sokovia Accords violation waves your right to counsel automatically, as its a greater threat than just New York, or even just the US, so not the same laws and processes apply,” Officer Brown explains, and that doesn’t sound right to Peter. It doesn’t look like it sounds right to her either, based on her set jaw and dead tone. He swallows his tongue, though, and tries to take the terrified lump in his throat with it. He can do this on his own, right?

“Why am I here? How did I violate the Accords?” he asks, and the officer steps back to allow the woman to step forward and sink into the chair across from him, laying the suitcase between them, like a loaded gun. Peter knows how people wrapped in his webs feel like, suddenly.

“I’m afraid Officer Brown isn’t qualified to answer that question. As she stated, this is much larger than New York, so local authorities have no jurisdiction in a case like yours.” Her teeth grind together a little as she continues. “Based on standard procedure, I should be questioning you privately, but Officer Brown and her superiors have insisted that since you are a minor, from right here in New York no less, there should be a local officer present.”

Peter nods slowly, trying to absorb everything he can from her words. He has no lawyer present and he won’t get one, but he also has an officer who seems to be interested, vaguely, at least, in keeping his rights intact. And he won’t be alone with this woman. He almost convinces himself he can do this, he can hold his own, but he can’t manage it when he still doesn’t know the extent of what they know.

“Alright, so first I’m going to need you to state your name for the record,” the woman finally begins. She hasn’t pulled out a recording device, or anything similar, and he gives her a confused look.

“The walls have recording devices in them. To make sure you can’t destroy any evidence, the room has multiple hidden microphones and cameras.”

His eyes widen as he feels another trapped wave of nausea roll through his body. “O-Okay. I’m Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“Alright.” She reaches into the case, and pulls out several largely printed photos that he recognizes easily. They’re his. “Can you explain these, Mr. Parker?”

 _Don’t hesitate, Peter. Don’t be suspicious. Only lie when necessary._ “I took those photos for _The Daily Bugle._ They pay me for them, when I need some extra cash.” He shrugs as casually as possible. He knows he’s failed when Officer Brown bites her lip and looks down.

“They’re very good photos.”

“I hope so, or else I won’t have a job for much longer.” Humor. Yeah. Maybe that’s normal-teenager-esque. You know, the “I am not and never have been a vigilante in any way” kind of teenager.

“Well, _The Daily Bugle_ hasn’t exactly been printing a lot of so-called ‘Spider-man’ photos lately, what with him being gone so long. Do you think you still have a job at the paper? Do you expect him to come back?”

 _Breathe. Swallow. Breathe._ “I hope he doesn’t. Little dangerous, what he was doing, don’t you think?”

A challenge that Peter doesn’t think he’s ready to accept fills the woman’s eyes as she raises her brow. “Really, you think so? Your editor, Mr. J. Jameson, said you had vocally shown support for what this vigilante was doing, even going so far as to say,” she pulls out a file and flips through it briefly, “that he would ‘never be able to do it himself, so why shouldn’t someone else grow up and save the city?’”

 _Fuck._ He knew that outburst would come back to bite him in the ass, but not like this.

“I was angry, and I thought he was shorting me on payments. He had told me that he shouldn’t be paying me for _anything_ anymore, because they were giving a criminal too much publicity, and I thought I was going to lose my job. The outburst was more against him than in support of Spider-man,” Peter tries. It’s not a very good argument, but they have yet to get to accusing him of being a masked vigilante, so maybe he’s holding his own.

“Well then, still, there had to be some part of you that wanted Spider-man to stick around, right?” she pushes. “Even if it was just to keep your job. Your source of income. You’re not exactly rich, are you, Mr. Parker?”

He bites the inside of his cheek at her snide comment, his face heating harshly. She’s trying to rile him up. She’s just another idiot that hangs out at his locker after school. “I could find jobs for photography elsewhere if Spider-man disappeared.”

“Then why didn’t you? Why bother sticking around at a job where your boss hates you, and only takes photos of criminals from you?”

“He had one of the best payouts in the city.” He can’t help himself from leaning forward a little and adding, “I’m not exactly rich, right?”

She hesitates for a moment, but only one. Peter may be good, but she clearly has practice, and has come far more prepared. “I imagine the price would be good, for photos like these,” she agrees, and this is where he had thought the conversation would start. This is what he’s been preparing for.

“I took photos for the school newspaper before _The Bugle._ I had practice and was dedicated.”

“Plenty of people have experience. But I have to admit, these photos are better than any other paper out there’s. Close-ups. Action shots. You were _there_ for these photos, up and in Spider-man’s business. And he just didn’t notice you?”

“Living in New York, you have to get pretty good at making sure no one notices you at night.”

He can _feel_ the air change when she decides to switch tactics, and the back of his neck prickles. Her face seems to gains the confidence that he used to have on patrols after webbing someone to a wall, and her smugness is palpable.

“Well, that’s with _normal_ people, you know? Of course a kid is good at hiding from normal street thugs, but these. . . enhanced individuals? These, others, you know? That’s different. They’re dangerous. Not like us, not like those that follow the law and weren’t born. Well. Weren’t born freaks.”

“Freaks?” Peter demands, his voice shaking.

She nods. “Well, what else would you call them? Someone who can shoot webs from their hands? Climb walls? That’s not natural, that’s not even. . . _human._ ” Her voice is becoming more and more disgusted, and Officer Brown is glaring at her harder than even Aunt May did the one time she had caught him sneaking in at one o’clock in the morning (thankfully, suitless). “That’s got to be terrifying, don’t you think? I mean, you were right there! He could have hurt you, he could have gone after you with his abilities, and-”

“That’s ridiculous!” Peter finally snaps. Officer Brown sighs, knowing that the woman has won, but he doesn’t notice. “He’s not there to hurt people, he’s there to help people! And just because he has abilities doesn’t mean he’s _inhuman_ -”

“Well, it’s not exactly really good reading abilities, or normal-old photography skills, this is spider powers, he probably wasn’t even born human, born to a human family-”

“He’s not some kind of monster!”

“You seem awfully defensive of a vigilante you were condemning just a few minutes ago. Maybe you’re more supportive of him than you’ve said, Mr. Parker?”

The fog clears, briefly, barely, and he sees what she’s doing. What she’s gotten him to say. What she had almost gotten him to admit to. And he feels his blood boil, and he curses himself for falling for it all, and he breathes. He can’t let anger do this to him, he has to think his responses through. He sighs, collecting himself. “I. I am. I’m more in favor of him then I previously said.” He meets her eyes, which are growing more and more angry for every step he takes towards a normal breathing pattern. “I didn’t want to express my support of him because. Well?” he gestures vaguely. “He’s breaking the law. I think he’s helping people, but I understand he’s doing it in the wrong way. Illegally.”

She sighs, gripping her hands together tightly before releasing them. “Peter,” she says, sighing again. He watches her bring herself back to focus, reign in her own thoughts. “Peter, I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I believed it was the best way, but I understand that you must have taken it personally.” Peter’s shoulders straighten, as his stomach simultaneously drops to his feet and rises up his throat. “I understand that my wording was harsh. I understand how you view Spider-man, why you think this way about him.” _Oh God, it’s coming, think Peter, think!_ “But, you’ve got a good life ahead of you. I agree you are quite the photographer, and that talent will be able to last you through your life. You’re a normal boy. A mistake like this can be permanent. No one would blame you for getting yourself out of this, safely back to your aunt. No one would think you’re at fault if you gave up a criminal, even if he’s your friend, okay? You’ll meet plenty of other people who won’t get you wrapped up in things like this.”

He opens his mouth to respond, and then freezes.

Wait a goddamn minute.

_What?_

“Wha-? My friend?”

“Peter, let’s not be secretive anymore, okay? We know you’re friends with Spider-man. There’s no other way you could’ve have gotten these photos, and you haven’t exactly been subtle throughout this talk of ours. You were defensive of him, and you have a history of supporting him, to the point where you yelled at your boss for speaking about his criminal behavior. We know, Peter. And it’s okay to tell us. You won’t get in trouble if you just give him up, we’ll let the law deal with him.”

“The law. . .” Peter repeats dazedly, trying to process this information. He isn’t. He isn’t under arrest? They don’t know. They don’t know he’s Spider-man, they don’t know he’s enhanced, he isn’t going to be taken to some government prison, they aren’t going to register him and tell Aunt May, and he wants to absolute break down cry-laughing, and maybe throw-up from fear and excitement at once, and his shoulders feel lighter than they have since the Sokovia Accords were signed.

This all hits him in an absolute blur, and he barely registers the woman’s response of, “Yes, he broke the law Peter, and you don’t have to be his accomplice in this.”

He looks up at her, and all the pieces of his moral puzzle he’s been shoving together these last few months come into place, finally, and he wants to smile wide enough to crack his own face. With the weight briefly off his shoulders, he remembers back to when he first started doing this all. He remembers everything. He doesn’t do this to uphold the law; he never has. He does it to protect the people. And there’s only one way to do that, right now.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know what to tell you. While I might have liked to know him once, I won’t associate with a criminal. I’m just a good photographer. It’s kind of my job.”

He looks to Officer Brown, addressing her directly. “It’s getting late, and I think I’d like to go home, if I can?”

She moves herself off the wall, and her relief is as real as his. “Absolutely not-” the woman starts, standing up, but her arm is grabbed by Officer Brown.

“You were on thin goddamn ice bringing in a minor with no representative or guardian. I would not push your luck right now, ma’am.”

She briskly walks to the door, gesturing for Peter to follow her. He stands and does so, feeling like he could accomplish anything right now. Maybe even save the world.

 _No,_ he corrects himself, smiling. _But definitely New York._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> Peter sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)


	4. Unconditional Lies and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Peter's faced the police, he has to face the person who's judgement really matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second-to-last back-up chapter, and then it'll be updates a little farther apart, probably about a week or so, depending on the chapter. This one is a little shorter than the previous ones, but I thought it needed to be a stand alone that didn't pair with another scene.
> 
> I ended the last one on a pretty happy note, and writing that scene's ending was actually a really nice break for me, and I hope for you guys, too, from the tension in this fic so far. And then I followed it up with this, and I am ungodly amounts of sorry.
> 
> It'll get better, I promise! (Eventually)
> 
> You guys continue to be awesome in the comments, thank you so much for your kind words and interest in this story!
> 
> All relevant changes are again, listed at the end!

Aunt May comes to pick him up after he calls her, and she’s even more of a nervous wreck than earlier. Peter can’t blame her. She pulls him into the tightest hug he’s ever had, but he still can’t bring himself to feel crushed.

“I’m okay, I promise,” he assures her, hugging her back.

She pulls away and begins her onslaught of questions. “What did they do to you? Did you get a lawyer? Were you safe? Are they pressing charges? How can they? What proof do they have? Do they-” She stops herself suddenly, looking up at the station. Peter follows her gaze, not understanding what’s silenced her.

“We should. . . we should talk back at the apartment. Or, somewhere more private.”

She ushers him into the car in the cramped police parking lot and locks the doors, before meeting his eyes directly. His euphoria dampens a little, unsure of how to talk to her about what just happened. Unsure of what she knows. His aunt isn’t unintelligent, and if the agents had figured out he’s connected to Spider-man just based off of his photography and support of him, then what has May figured out?

Her eyes well up briefly before looking down as she clears her throat. He reaches for her hesitantly, and she takes his hand in hers.

“Peter. Peter. We have to talk. Talk about all of,” she gestures at the police station, “this. What’s going on. You know knowledge is power, right? And with great power-”

“Comes great responsibility,” he finishes for her quietly. She nods, wiping at her tears with her available hand. He’s too lost to try to help her, so he listens as she continues.

“And Peter, sometimes our responsibilities are to our friends and family, but sometimes they’re to ourselves. We’re responsible for keeping ourselves safe, even if that means giving up friends and family.”

“I know that, Aunt May, I promise.”

“Good, because I need you to be honest with me, I need you to be honest so I can help you and we can get you out of this.” His heart is pounding in his ears again, his hair standing up as he begins shaking. She tightens her grip on his hand when she notices. She bites her lip, before finally putting it out into the car.

“Do you know who Spider-man is?”

The lying is instinctual by now, and makes him more defensive than he’d like. “No, of course not!”

“Don’t act like it’s a ridiculous idea! Don’t you dare! Those photos are too damn good, Peter, and I saw the webs on your wall that last night Spider-man was seen, when you had a panic attack, and you haven’t been the same since he stopped coming around New York. If he was your friend, I need to know, because this is something that affects both of us, and I can’t watch you sink any further. I love you too much, and I’m here to protect you, not the other way around!” She’s crying now, her eyes puffy and her lips shaking as she speaks. “Don’t lie to me to keep me safe. You don’t need to do that. You’re my kid.”

Now Peter’s crying, too, because it’s so tempting to tell her, to tell the woman who’s taken care of and loved him for years. He wants to confess it all to her and ask for her help, because he needs it, but he knows how upset she’ll be. He finally admits to himself that he knows she won’t be angry that he got bit and developed powers, she’ll be angry he hasn’t told her. That he’s lied to her for so long. A selfish part of himself worries she might be so angry she can’t forgive him. He knows she says her love is unconditional, but that’s always been regarding if he messed up on a test or broke a glass. What about becoming nearly inhuman and putting on a costume at night to fight crime, all the while lying to her face?

What if she can’t understand why he still has to do it, even now? He knows that breaking the law is a necessary evil to protect the things he loves, the people he loves, but what if she disagrees? He loves her, he couldn’t stand to see disappointment in her eyes like that.

She pulls him in for a hug across the console, and it’s awkwardly angled and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t care as he buries his head in her shoulder. He needs this one last piece of genuine physical contact before he has to pull away and start lying to her all over again, unsure as to whether he’ll ever be able to stop.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” he whispers hoarsely into her hair. She nods. “And that’s my responsibility, May, whatever that means. Whatever comes with it.”

He pulls away, feeling his heart drop, and he wants to cry harder. “I don’t know who Spider-man is.”

Her face falls. “Peter, I know you’re lying.”

His eyes sting as they look anywhere but at hers. “I know. But. I just-” he draws a breath that feels like sandpaper, and he meets her look one last time with a begging try. “I can’t. Please?”

They keep each other locked in their gazes for a long time, neither quite sure what to do. He wants to tell her, wants to show her the suit and tell her he never sleeps without a shirt anymore because of the scars, talk about the night he found out about the Sokovia Accords, and why he sometimes has nightmares so bad he wakes up bruised, having rolled onto the floor. He wants to be able to have an aunt again, and he isn’t sure when, exactly, he lost that. He knows she just wants her nephew back, but she wants back her nephew that talks about science fairs and shows her vine compilations and falls asleep to crime shows. She doesn’t want  _ him  _ back, she just doesn’t know it.

Finally, she sighs, giving in, knowing she’ll never pry an answer out of him until he’s ready, and turns the keys in the ignition. He pulls himself into a ball after buckling himself up and stares out the window. His high of saving New York is gone, but he still will. He loves his city. It’s his family, his home.

He looks at his Aunt May and silently knows that he’d love and protect it even if it couldn’t do the same for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> Peter sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)


	5. A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words, But Even a Photographer Has His Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has made up his mind about being Spider-man, and he knows what he needs to do to get his life in order. But even after his mind is made up, he's allowed to have his doubts, right? He can't stop himself from thinking that maybe Jameson was right about Spider-man.
> 
> At least the part about him being a coward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This used to be two separate chapters, for, like, a week, but I really feel as though separating them breaks the flow of the chapter, and is just awkward to read, so I put them back together the way they were originally meant to go. Thank you for understanding!
> 
> Old Notes <> Old Notes
> 
> Old Notes for The Second Part <> Old Notes for The Second Part

The worst part now is the waiting. He tells himself he won’t start going out again for three weeks after the interrogation, no matter how badly he wants to, because Aunt May and the _freaking international new-SHIELD_ are already suspicious of him, and he doesn’t need to make it any worse.

The anxiety on his shoulders is lightened a little by the fact that he’s finally made his decision, for better or worse, so he tries to get his life together the best he can before he starts going out at night again. He calls Ned and invites him over as often as possible, goes out when he can, hangs out with Aunt May when he can’t, and tries not to worry too much about his suit.

At night during the first week, once Ned has gone home or May has gone to bed, he practices in his room. He improves what he can on his web shooters, and practices webbing without them in case he ever has an emergency that requires it. He fixes all the holes in his costume by stitching them back up, and tightens it so that it isn’t as baggy. He tests his grip, climbing on his ceiling and walls. He has to stay confined in his room, because he can’t risk an early Spider-man sighting, so cleaning up the webs takes a lot longer than he expected. The first night he barely manages it before Aunt May wakes up to get ready for work, and collapses on his bed for the full day after.

His second week is the week before school starts, and he’s busy with getting his backpack ready and all of his school supplies. May insists on spending more time with him, so he can have some fun before going back, meaning he’s up late and practicing later, but it’s worth it when he realizes she’s trusting him more. She trusts that he’ll tell her, eventually. It stings a little, knowing that he’s not sure she’s right, but he’s stopped getting off-hand looks that treat him like a ticking bomb.

Before he goes back to saving New York, though, he knows there’s one more thing he has to do.

He knocks on Jameson’s door lightly. He’s made sure to come by late, so there aren’t too many people that could cause a scene, just in case.

“Come in!” a rough voice barks at him. He opens the door and is hit with the strong smell of ash.

“Um, Mr. Jameson?”

The man sitting in his desk, a cigar in his hand, looks up from his papers. “Parker! What are you doing here? Spider-man isn’t back, is he?” Peter shakes his head. “Well, your other pictures were never any good.”

Peter bites his lip and refrains from rolling his eyes. Jameson always had to go out of his way to be a douche, like he wasn’t already one without the side comments.

“That’s actually what I’m here about.” Peter steels himself, preparing for the worst. “I won’t be continuing with this paper.”

Jameson meets his eyes, says, “Damn,” and then simply shrugs. “Okay. Get out.” He waves his hand and looks back to the sheets on his desk. A hot anger sinks into Peter’s gut, annoyed that that was the end of it, after all the smoke he’d had to breathe in and screamings he’d had to sit through, but he stands up anyway, ignoring it as he walks out. He’s at the door when Jameson pipes up again.

“You’re not leaving us for some better offer, are ya, kid?”

Peter turns to him. He’s not, but this asshole sitting here breaking every rule by smoking eight cigars a day in this oversized glass office doesn’t have any right to know that, after what he’s done. “Maybe I am, sir, for a paper that won’t sell me out.”

He didn’t mean to say that last part, and the man rolls his eyes. “Come on, what else did you expect me to do? They came around asking who the photographer was for our Spider-man shots, and I told him it was just this scrawny little kid that liked the vigilante too much. It’s your own fault for getting wrapped up in all that.”

“I got wrapped up in because you were paying me to! I was doing my job!”

Jameson scoffs. “Yeah, and a shitty one at that.”

“I didn’t see you paying anyone else for those photos! I was your best fucking photographer for-”

“For the Spider pictures only,” he snaps back at him. “Just admit it, you’re pissed because the one thing you were good at getting pictures of turned out to be a coward after all, leaving just when it got tough. After all your bullshit defenses of him, too. We don’t need you anymore, kid, he’s not coming back. Good riddance, too. He left this city, he’s done.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” Peter spits out lowly before making his way out of the building as fast as he can, getting away from the human embodiment of lung cancer, hopefully, for good.

The adrenaline pumping through him makes his feet feel heavy, weighted to the pavement on the way back to his house, and his wrists itch for something. _Six more nights,_ he reminds himself, grinning. _Just six more nights._

 

No matter how many times he reminds himself how few days are left, though, he’s far from grinning as he tosses and turns in bed his first night after school. It’s not homework or stress keeping him up, not yet, anyway. His heart is restlessly pumping to the tune of the sirens racing down the street, knowing he should  _do_ something, knowing that he  _can_ do something, but isn’t. The guilt keeps him wide awake worse than any bought of insomnia did when he was younger.

Besides, every time he closes his eyes, the weight in his heart gets a little heavier. Playing like a broken movie, replaying the same scene over and over, he watches the last time he hadn’t saved someone, remembers the first time the blood on his hands wasn’t metaphorical, remembers screaming and screaming and  _screaming_ with no one answering until someone called the police, who called Aunt May, who was the only person that could drag him away from the body. From Uncle Ben’s body.

If he could have just helped  _then,_ but he couldn’t, he  _didn’t,_ he had to go be an ass off somewhere else, and now he here is, off being an ass in his room when he could be saving lives, and he knows he’s got a reason, but it feels too much like an excuse.

He turns again, staring at the wall just inches from his face. It’s two more days until he can finally put his suit on again, and it feels like three too many. What if New York is angry at him for not coming back sooner? Hurt that he gave up so easily, and infuriated to see him walk back into the city and its citizens lives like some kind of hero? Or, even worse, what if they aren’t? What if New York accepts him with open arms and street singers like it first had? He doesn’t deserve that. He abandoned them. He was a coward, and he’s finally made the decision to keep saving them after nearly four months. Jameson was right, Spider-man had left right when things got hard, right when his city needed to know he would still protect them. How can he just waltz back in now, in a suit that’s spotless as the day he’d left, to a city he’d let rot?

How many other kids can’t close  _their_ eyes, either, all because Peter Parker needed some time? How much blood is on his hands that he could have stopped? What has he done? What can he do to fix it? Can he, at all?

He buries his face into his pillow. No matter the answer, he knows he has a responsibility to try, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)


	6. Ignorance Is Bliss, But Loneliness Isn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spider-man knows his first night out should be a cautious one. Take it easy and slow, not ring more alarm bells than necessary, yet. But everyone makes mistakes the day before a big event, right? The same night he's reminded, again, so vividly, why he's doing this, he's reminded what he's given up in the name of what's right. Is a martyr always alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the last two updates being so short, but this is about double my usual length to make up for it! There's also a lot more swearing in this one, if that's something you look out for. I'm excited about how this chapter will change things.
> 
> As always, the list is at the end!

Sometimes, Spider-man fucks up, and it bleeds into Peter Parker’s life. No one knows that better than Peter, although that’s probably because not too many people knew that at all. But it’s a rare day when Peter Parker fucks up and it bleeds into Spider-man’s life.

The first night he goes out again is one of those nights, but he doesn’t know it yet. Right now, all he knows is red and blue and blinding lights and the feeling of the wind against his suit. He knows exhilaration, he knows his city, and he knows what’s right. His heart skips every time he sees a squad car, but it’s still lighter than it’s been since May as he patrols, strolling the rooftops until he finds someone in trouble. 

His first night back isn’t too ambitious. It’s nothing but pickpockets and car thieves, but it’s much bigger than just the crimes he’s stopping, as important at that is. It’s a return. It’s an oath. It’s a promise to New York that he’s back for it, and he won’t be leaving again. It may take awhile for New York to trust him to save it again, but he can always count on New York needing to be saved.

“Just give me your fuckin’ money and they’re ain’t gonna be no trouble,” a tall man in a clichely big hoodie says as he holds a gun to the another man’s back. The shorter man reaches for his wallet quickly, and the armed man cocks his gun, freezing the second. “A little slower, come on, I gotta make sure it’s the cash.”

Peter lowers himself slowly down the side of the wall in the alley. There’s no lighting, and hadn’t lied when he’d told the woman from SHIELD he knew how not to be noticed. Growing up in New York before becoming a masked superhero had let him develop very specific talents.

He waits, not wanting to startle the mugger into doing something to the man he’s robbing. Finally, the guy shakily pulls out a couple of twenties, emptying the wallet, but the mugger snatches the whole thing from him still, along with the money, lowering his weapon for an instant, and that’s all Spider-man needs. He jumps down from the wall and knocks the gun out of the man’s hands.

“Hey!” the guy yells, turning to get a web to his face. The shorter man distances himself from the conflict immediately as the mugger stumbles backwards, grabbing at the substance on his face, and trips over his own feet. Neither man has fully registered what’s happening, who has stopped the mugging. Spider-man catches the tall man before he falls to the ground and pushes him against the wall he himself had just come down from, shooting at both of the guy’s wrists to stick his arms to the brick.

“You must have the worst luck, pal,” he jokes, checking the restraints as the guy struggles and yells muffledly. “I mean, the first day I’m back and you decide your day job just isn’t enough? I wouldn’t buy any lottery tickets today, but I don’t think they let you in prison, so you don’t have to worry about that, anyway.”

When he’s satisfied with the webs and turns around, the man who was being robbed is long gone, but Peter doesn’t mind. He had  _ saved _ someone, and there’s no better feeling than knowing he’s using his powers to help people. There’s nothing better than knowing there’s one less person out there being hurt because he had intervened.

Spider-man thinks he’s finally living up to his responsibility again, and he’s high on it.

Peter Parker’s mess doesn’t catch up with him until he crawls back into his bedroom around twelve-thirty.

He had made sure to check four blocks around his apartment for any squad cars or police presence, and he knew his window wasn’t facing any security cameras from businesses. Spidey had planned meticulously.

It’s when he rips off his mask, grinning, and he hears the sound of 1,500 LEGOs falling to the ground, that he realizes he hadn’t been as careful as Peter Parker.

“Boys?” Aunt May’s tired voice calls through the apartment, and Ned breaks eye contact to glance towards her voice. Peter leaps forward towards him, stripping off his costume as he moves.

“It’s not what it looks like!” he hisses, but Ned’s mouth is still wide-open, shocked.

“Are you guys alright?” Peter can hear May coming closer, and he throws his suit under his bed quickly, right as his room’s door opens.

“Hey, May!” he squeaks out, looking from her to Ned.

“Hey, Peter,” she greets, standing in the doorway. “I fell asleep, didn’t realize you were home. It’s kind of late, don’t you guys think you should head to sleep? It’s not the weekend, yet, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry. I got home a little late, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Alright. How did job hunting go?”

Peter shrugs, trying to act casual while wearing nothing but his boxers and standing in the middle of a potential warzone. “Not too good. I have experience, but Jameson only used my,” he stumbles over his words briefly, the name feeling stuck in his throat, “Spider-man photos. So while I’ve got other photos, they weren’t used in a professional context. And it’s always a risk listing Jameson as a reference, because he might just go off when they call him, so. . .”

“Yeah, that guy was always such a dick. It sucks looking for jobs, it’s even worse when you’re last boss was as bad. But there’ll be a newspaper out there looking for talent, not just reputation, you’ve just gotta find it.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll keep trying.” Peter grins and internally groans at how fake he’s sure it looks. May’s suspicious, he can tell.

“Good idea. You’re good at what you do, so don’t worry about it.” She smiles at him reassuringly before looking to Ned. “And you can always stay over, but it is a school night, so you two should get to bed.”

“Of course, yeah, we’ll do that right now. We were just headed to bed!” Peter assures her before Ned can say anything.

May smiles, eyeing Peter’s bare everything. “I assumed. Goodnight, you two!”

As soon as she shuts the door behind her Ned is turned back to him, spluttering to get his questions out.

“You’re the Spider-man?” he whisper-demands.

“No, Ned, I’m not-”

“You crawled into the apartment from the wall!”

“No, I didn’t, what are you even doing in my room?”

“Your aunt let me in, you agreed to finish the LEGO Death Star tonight.”

“I did n-” Peter starts, but hesitates. He hadn’t been able to focus on anything all day, too distracted by his thoughts about going out that night. Was it possible he  _ had _ agreed to have Ned over and just not realized it?

Before he can try to explain, a look of comprehension reaches Ned’s face. “She doesn’t know. Holy shit, she doesn’t kno-”

“No, of course she doesn’t!” Peter snaps. “You can’t tell her, you can’t tell anybody.”

“What do you mean I can’t tell May-”

“You know how she is, you know she’d freak out if she found out people try to kill me at night! She won’t let me do it anymore!” His voice, while still quiet, is rising rapidly in pitch.

“Then why do it all?” Ned demands.

“Because I can!” He sighs, frustrated, but Ned is clearly waiting for more. Peter turns and collapses onto his bed, looking up at his friend. He rubs his fists at his temples and collects his thoughts to make Ned understand. “Because I can help people. How do I look at New York and look at people who need help and just say no to them?”

Ned nods, but then pauses momentarily. “Peter, I don’t think I can keep this a secret, this is like the biggest thing-”

“No, _Ned!”_ He shoots up, his fists clutching his sheets. “You can’t tell anyone. I can’t do that to May, I can’t. After Ben, keeping each other safe was so important, and she doesn’t need- I can’t do that to. . .” he chokes up a little, and Ned sits down next to him, watching him try to catch his breath.

“Okay,” he cedes. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you.” Peter gives him a small smile before crumpling back on his bed, groaning and rolling onto his face. “Dammit, I can’t believe this happened.”

“If I can’t tell anyone, can I at least know a little more?”

“I mean, fine, I don’t see not. What the hell else do I have to lose?”

Peter quickly learns the answer to his rhetorical question: about an hour and a half.

“How do you shoot the webs?”

“My wrists shoot them.”

“Woah, so they just come out of you? When did that happen?”

“I got bit by a spider. A genetically-experimented-on spider. It made me Spider-man.”

“Did you it give you any other spider powers?”

“Yeah-”

“Do you lay eggs?”

Peter can’t help but laugh at that. “What the hell, Ned?”

“You didn’t ans-”

“It’s a strong no.”

“Can I get bit by the spider? Nah, it probably hurts, right? Well, maybe it would be worth it, but probably not, you wouldn’t want a copycat Spider-man-”

“The spider’s dead.”

“Okay, fine, that’s fair. What other spider powers do you have? Do you have secret, hidden, extra legs?” He looks at Peter’s bare chest as if trying to see if he can find them.

“No, I’ve just got Spidey senses. And I can climb walls, but everyone already knows that.”

Ned frowns confusedly. “‘Spidey senses?’”

Peter turns a little red when he realizes he’s used his nickname for his power out loud. “Yeah, I don’t know, it’s just what I call it. I can like, sense danger sometimes. It’s not always very helpful. Like, I could have a gun held to my head and my hair would stand up, but if I don’t hear it I’d have to turn around and see it to know it was a gun.”

His friend’s eyes widen, but he can’t figure out what he’s said wrong until Ned whispers, “Has that ever happened?”

Peter pointedly doesn’t look at the large scar at the top of his right shoulder and shrugs. “Is it hard? Going out and knowing you might not come back?”

“I mean, of course it is, but I always do. And what’s the alternative?”

Ned says, “Not getting yourself killed?” the same time Peter says, “Not taking responsibility?” Peter looks down, avoiding Ned’s eyes.

“Responsibility to what? New York? What do you owe this city?”

“I owe the people,” he mutters.

“Yeah, but, why?”

“With great power comes great responsibility. I’ve got the power. I can’t just ignore it.”

Ned looks like he’s trying to understand, but Peter accepts that he can’t. It’s the kind of situation no one can really react to until it comes.

The pause only lasts a minute, though, until Ned asks, “Can you spit venom as one of your spider powers?” and the two launch back into Twenty Questions: Spider-man Edition.

And as awkward some of his friend’s questions can get, and even with the little worry in the back of his mind telling him that Ned knowing is a slippery slope, he can’t help but grin. He hadn’t realized how lonely it had gotten without his aunt and his best friend, and now he gets to have one of them back.

It’s nice knowing that Spider-man isn’t a solo act, even if he’s reminding himself that he’s supposed be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)


	7. The Taste of a Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if telling Ned brings some of the normality back into Peter's life, it doesn't solve everything. And Spider-man's return has drawn attention from a variety of people. Who will get to Parker first?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Side note: I combined chapters five and six because I thought they were awkward separated, but I didn't delete either!)
> 
> This is when the events of Spider-Man: Homecoming will start coming into play. The next few chapters will exist within that movie, to continue with the MCU timeline, but he'll be dealing with the events without the overbearing presence of Tony Stark and the dismissiveness of Happy. I have a set ending for this fic, and this is about halfway through, loosely. I am really excited to keep this going until the end, and thank you all so much for the kudos!
> 
> I ALSO FINALLY MADE A VINE REFERENCE LIKE I PROMISED. I AM PSYCHED. IT WILL JUST BE A FLOOD FROM HERE ON OUT.
> 
> List is at the end!

Peter doesn’t expect to wake up before Ned, especially since he was out last night. He checks his phone and realizes it’s barely six, but he can’t make himself feel tired again. He crawls down from his top bunk, yawning, before silently opening the door. Maybe he can find a cereal bar to munch on and review some terms he’d skimmed the night before.

All his plans go out the window when he sees Aunt May crying on the couch.

He stands behind the couch, his drowsiness making him unsure of what to do. He glances up at the TV, which is turned to the news, and realizes what’s wrong. Nothing’s happened. Nothing’s happened but _him._ The man who he had saved from being mugged last night is speaking to a reporter.

Before he can make any movement, she turns and meets his eyes, hers filled with tears and his filled with guilt. He feels himself go numb, mouth opening with nothing to say.

“Peter, tell me you were with Ned last night. Please, just. Tell me you’re not getting caught up in this. Not again,” she pleads, quietly, and his heart shatters. He isn’t ready for this. He thought he would be, he thought he could handle the consequences for New York, and he can, just not so soon. He isn’t ready to watch her watch his every action, both of them knowing too much but not enough. He isn’t ready to worry her about what he’s doing every time she goes to bed. He isn’t ready to face her tears. She’s looking at him like she had looked at Ben’s casket; she looks like she’s already lost him.

“I’m not involved with Spider-man.” He doesn’t even pretend it’s not a lie.

“Don’t you remember what happened to Captain America? One day a hero, next day an international criminal, all because-”

“He knew what he was doing was right.” His eyes never leave hers, even as they well up. “He knew he was protecting the people.”

“You don’t have a responsibility to people, Peter.”

“But people with power do. You have to take risks to defend what’s right.”

She stands up and walks towards him, and he stays steady. “This is dangerous, what he’s doing.”

“He can’t ignore-”

“If this guy is tricking you into something, or-”

“Tricking me?! Of course he’s not! I’m not involved with him! I’m just saying-”

“ _I’m_ just saying I can’t lose you!”

Peter stops, and so does she, and he finally breaks and hugs her. She pulls him so tight he can’t breathe, but he doesn’t care. He never would with his Aunt May.

“You won’t, May. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that, Peter, not with something like this.”

“I won’t contact him. We won’t talk anymore. You won’t lose me, okay?”

She sags, and somehow manages to pull him even closer. “Thank you, Peter. God, I just can’t imagine you being involved in something like that.”

He’s lying, of course. It feels wrong, but there’s something else he feels, too. His body is numb. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but he knows one thing: if this is how she reacts to him when she thinks Spider-man is someone he can just remove from himself, he can’t even imagine her if she knew Spider-man and Peter were two concepts so tangled that neither one of them knew the difference anymore.

So he has to lie. He’d never place his own safety above New York’s. He’s not that selfish. But putting Aunt May’s safety above New York’s?

He pulls away and looks at her tear-stained face and the gentle smile she has now, and he knows he’d do that in a heartbeat.

He’ll just have to be even more cautious when he goes out next time. Maybe reinforce his suit with some body armor. He’ll figure it out. He’ll keep his promise to Aunt May and to New York at the same time. He has to.

Ned bumps into a wall when he walks out the door, swears, realizes Aunt May is in the room, profusely apologizes, acknowledges the two of them are having a moment, apologizes again, and excuses himself to the bathroom all in the span of two seconds, leaving Peter and May bursting with sudden laughter.

“No, you’re fine, Ned, it’s alright!” Peter calls, following him. Aunt May goes into the kitchen to get ready for work, turning the TV off.

Peter enters his room after Ned and shuts the door. “Uh, how much did you hear?”

Ned shrugs. “Most of it. I woke up right after you did.” He looks to the door, and then back at Peter, lowering his voice. “So, what _does_ she know?”

“She thinks Spider-man is a friend of mine that I’m lying about to protect.”

“And you said you’d stop seeing him?”

Peter tries to keep his face neutral as he tosses his things into his backpack and shoves his suit back into its hiding place in the ceiling. “Yeah, so she doesn’t worry. That’s kind of the whole point of keeping the secret.”

“Yeah, I guess.” There’s an elephant in the room, pushing both of them apart, but Peter doesn’t mind it as much as he used to. At least they can acknowledge it’s there.

Peter throws on his clothes and Ned packs his own backpack, both of them in silence until Ned breaks it with another question. This one’s harder than the ones last night, though. This isn’t something Peter likes to talk about.

“What were you doing on the nights when Spider-man was gone?”

Peter’s fist clenches momentarily, an instinctual panic running through him as he remembers those weeks. “Mostly just sat in my room and worried, honestly.”

“Worrying about what?”

Peter doesn’t answer, but Ned figures it out.

Not until gym later that day, granted, but he figures it out.

“Do you know him?” Ned whispers, pointing at the gym video of Captain America talking about the fitness challenge.

“Nah, I wish,” Peter jokes back quietly. “I didn’t really meet anybody, you know? It was just me here in Queens.”

Ned goes to make comment, but the video finishes and the teacher says, “I’m pretty sure this guy’s a war criminal, but I’m required to show it by the state, so. . .” and Peter tenses harshly and hopes Ned doesn’t notice, but of course he does. The realization hits Ned’s face like a truck.

“Did you stop going out because of the Sokovia Accords?”

Peter shrugs, standing up with the rest of the students and following the coach down to the gym floor from the bleachers. “Dude, they’re still in place! Can’t you get in tr-”

“Can we just talk about it later?” Peter whispers, cutting him off aggressively.

Ned is even more unsettled now, Peter can tell, but he nods, dropping it, which Peter is grateful for. He doesn’t need to talk about the Sokovia Accords right now, not after this morning.

When they start doing sit-ups, Ned mutters under his breath, “Holy shit, how did I not notice you getting so athletic randomly?” Peter laughs a little easier, trying to forget any hard conversations.

They’re in silence for awhile, and maybe Ned thinks Peter will find his next comment funny, too. Maybe he hopes they can just ignore the very large cavern between them. Maybe that’s why he asks, “Hey, can I be your guy in the chair?”

Peter’s smile is small and confused, but it’s there. “What?”

“You know, the guy in the headset telling you where to go and what’s dangerous. Like a sidekick, but cooler.”

And, oh. Peter’s not smiling now. “No, you can’t do that,” he snaps, a bit ruder than he had meant to.

“What, why not?”

“Dude, I don’t need a guy in the chair. And besides, that’d be super dangerous.” He couldn’t risk lives like that, he couldn’t risk _Ned’s_ life like that. Spider-man was a superhero on his own for a reason, and he didn’t need to drag anyone else down with his choice.

“Looking good, Parker,” the coach comments, distracting both of the boys from the conversation at hand. The distraction leads them to overhearing a different talk amongst the seniors behind them. Liz is hanging out with them.

“For me, it would definitely be fuck Thor, marry Iron Man, and kill Hulk,” one of them says.

“What about the Spider-man?” questions another. Peter listens more intently now. People had been blowing up about Spider-man’s return, and the whole school had been abuzz all morning. If kids have something to say about him, he definitely wants to hear about it.

Even if it’s just a game of “fuck, marry, kill.”

“Well, I mean, it’s just Spider-man.”

“Woah, did you guys see that security cam on YouTube from last night?” Liz argues. “He fought off, like, four guys!”

“Oh my God, she’s crushing on Spider-man,” the first girl sighs, and Peter turns beat red, turning away from the conversation, pretending he’s not interested in the answer.

It’s not a big secret that he has a crush on Liz, but she’s a senior and he’s a sophomore, and she is also, approximately, 100x cooler than he is. And it feels weird to hear her talk about him without knowing it’s him.

“I mean, kind of,” Liz confesses, and Peter knows his pale skin is giving him away completely right now, and Ned is grinning at him. He tries to ignore him and get back to his sit-ups, but Ned won’t let him.

“Dude, Liz has a crush on you!” he hisses excitedly.

“No, she doesn’t!” Peter squeaks quietly.

“He’s probably nearly thirty, Liz,” one of the friends jokes, followed by someone else saying, “And, like, super scarred.”

“See, she doesn’t even know it’s me, she doesnt’ like me, just Spider-man,” Peter tries to say, but Liz impairs that argument.

“I wouldn’t care if he was scarred, I’d still love him for who he was.”

“She doesn’t know that, she hasn’t even met him,” Peter mutters.

“Maybe you could start something at your house tonight during the party. He’ll show up and save you dramatically and you can fall in love,” the second friend mocks, and Liz shoves her shoulder.

“Oh, screw off, that’s ridiculous,” Liz snorts.

“That’s genius,” Ned argues to Peter. “Show up at her party as Spider-man!”

“No! Spider-man’s not a party trick.”

“No, but if anyone has a chance with _senior Liz_ it’s-”

“Spider-man. Peter Parker has no chance. No way, no how. And she can’t know I’m him!” Peter’s still embarassingly red, trying to pretend that he isn’t.

“Just say you, like, know him or something! Like you did with May!”

The bell rings for them all to change, and Peter hops up. “That’s way too risky just to impress Liz.”

“‘Just’ to impress Liz, like you haven’t been trying since you met her,” Ned teases him.

Peter jokingly flips Ned off, but his friend just laughs. “Come on, just go to the party at least? What’s the point of being Spider-man if you don’t even get a confidence boost from it?”

Peter grins. “Oh, you know. Saving the city?”

“Yeah, well you could be saving your relationship.”

“We don’t even have one!” Peter defends shrilly.

“Yeah, and who’s fault is that?”

They head to lunch together, sitting at their empty table. The table in always empty, except for Michelle, who sits at the end, away from the two of them. Ned takes their solitude as an invitation to keep talking.

“You could at least just talk to her.”

“We talk all the time.”

“Yeah, but as friends. She probably hasn’t even realized you have a massive crush on her-”

“It’s normal-sized!” Peter blurts out, eliciting a laugh from Michelle. “No, that’s not what I meant,” he groans. “Can you just drop it? It’ll get creepy if we keep talking about a conversation we weren’t even a part of.”

“Yeah, it already has,” Michelle tells the two of them, not even looking away from her book. “You guys are losers.”

“Then why do you sit with us?”

She shrugs. “Because I don’t have any friends.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.” Peter grins sarcastically.

“‘This is why mom doesn’t _fucking_ love you,’” Ned quotes, and Peter cracks up. It even gets a grin from Michelle. Peter can’t remember the last time he had just chilled at lunch, let his guard down, and made stupid Vine references.

Even when it’s messy and complicated, it’s better having Ned back than doing it all on his own again.

But bringing Ned closer doesn’t mean he hasn’t pushed _May_ away. Walking back into the apartment brings a bitterness into his mouth, like the aftertaste of a house fire and lies and subs.

Why does it smell like subs?

“Peter, you’re home!” Aunt May happily pulls him in for a hug, which he half-heartedly returns.

“Yeah, I am. Did you pick up sandwiches?”

“Yep. I just thought with this morning and all, and getting away from things, we had something to celebrate, you know?”

His stomach lurches, and he wants to follow it into a pit of despair, because this is what family is, now, just one lie after another. The worst part is that it feels mundane by now. He recognizes the feeling from earlier this morning, the numbness. Familiarity. Rehearsed. It feels _normal._

“Thanks, Aunt May.” He smiles at her, and it hits him like a train that he’s becoming a better actor. She believes the happiness on his face. She believes him.

The sub sits like a rock in his gut, but he’s just going through the motions by the time he goes to bed.

He sleeps for an hour, until his alarm goes off. He jumps, pulling his costume from out of the ceiling and throwing it on, hooking up his web shooters.

Spider-man is more reckless on that night than most, and he ends up with a split lip and more bruises than usual. He isn’t sure how he can explain it to May, so he decides he’ll just leave early for school the next morning and leave her a note that he had to go ask a teacher before class started.

Maybe his stomach will feel less sick if he writes the lies instead of speaking them.

 

“There’s new vigilante activity in New York,” an accented voice tells the man over the phone.

“Stark?” he questions.

“No. Someone new. He has a history in New York, specifically Queens, and he went off the map after the Accords were signed. He returned last night. Since you were in the area, I thought you should know. Your friend agreed as well.”

“Alright. What are his known connections? And what’s the guys name?”

“I can give you better than connections.”

The man smiles. “I can always count on you to be the smartest person in a conversation.”

“You’re damn right you can.” There’s a muffled protest at the end of the line. “Calm down, mother, it’s fine.” The girl on the phone returns to speaking to the man. “He goes by Spider-man.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that guy.”

“Well, I can tell you who he is.”

An impressed silence follows before the man asks, “How?”

“The American government is almost as bad at encrypting files as Stark. I looked through the records on him, and they haven’t figured out who he is, despite it being right under their noses.”

“What’s his name? Send me the file on him.”

“Sure thing. His name’s Peter Parker.”

“He live alone?”

“No, with his aunt. His address is on the file. I just sent it to you.”

The man pulls the phone away, leaving her on speaker. The file opens up to show a scrawny teenager.

“He’s,” the man starts.

“Young,” she agrees. “I’m only sixteen. Sometimes you can’t turn down a fight. I assumed you would know that.”

The man shook his head. “Still. Just a kid.”

“So, you’re going to talk to him?”

The man hesitates. “Yeah. Maybe talk him out of it?”

The girl snorts. “I doubt it. Maybe just offer him help.”

“Help with what?”

“Making sure he doesn’t get killed. There’s nothing out there more reckless than a white boy.”

The man laughs. “I mean, you’re right.”

Something beeps in the background. “One second, I’ve got to handle something. We’ll talk later.”

“Sure thing. Tell your brother I said hi.”

He can hear her smug grin. “I will, and I’ll tell White Wolf that you said hi, too.”

“Thanks,” the man says sheepishly.

“No problem. Goodbye, Mr. Rogers.”

“Bye, Shuri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)  
> Steve Rogers helped people secretly during the time between Civil War and Infinity War
> 
> Link to the Vine: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AkKiLaxXjAA


	8. Headstones Don't Have Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things in New York, in the world, are building, and Peter can sense it. He seeks comfort from someone he loves, and it leaves too much of a reminder of who he's lost, and what he's done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long to post, school has been absurdly busy this week. All my writing efforts have been fixing up the newspaper. But I'm back now, and the next update won't be so far out.
> 
> All of the kudos you guys have been leaving mean the word to me, thank you so much for checking out this story! All the canon differences are at the end, as usual.

“Peter, I’m headed down to the store. Is there anything you want?”

“A will to live?” Peter sighs, staring at the homework spread out on the kitchen table.

“You’ve got a limit, sweetheart,” May responds, unphased.

“A chocolate bar? A forged death certificate so I can run away to Guatemala?”

“Any reason Guatemala?”

“No extradition treaty.”

“I’m going to gloss over why you’d need an extradition treaty-free country if you’re just skipping homework and go ahead and tell you we do have one with Guatemala.”

“God-”

“Peter.”

“Darnit. Darnit it all to heck.”

She smiles at him and walks over to pat his hair. “You’ll make it through. First few weeks back are bound to be the hardest, right? You just haven’t gotten back into schedule quite yet.”

_ I also haven’t gotten any sleep in days,  _ he thinks to himself, but he appreciates her help. Even if she can’t solve a problem, she’ll make him feel a little better about it.

“And, just in case, I don’t think we have a treaty with Russia, how does Siberia sound for the rest of your life?”

“Like New York winter, but permanently,” he laughs, focusing back on the what’s in front of him. She smiles and picks up her purse.

“I’ll be back quick, try to focus, alright?”

“No Vines while you’re gone?”

“There’s no chance you’ll listen to that.”

She walks out, locking the door behind her, and the words in front of him continue to swim. It isn’t that the book isn’t interesting, it just isn’t as interesting as about a dozen other things he could be doing.

And, okay, yeah, the book isn’t all that interesting.

But Peter really does have more important things that are on his mind, like the bodega just a little ways down getting blown to high hell by weapons Peter has never seen before, and the anxiety that’s riding on him over new-SHIELD not contacting him yet over Spider-man’s return,  and the fact that rumors are going around about new enhanced activity in New York. It isn’t the guy from Hell’s Kitchen, and it isn’t him, and his agitation just increases the more he thinks about who it could be and what they might do.

Tack on the shame of New York accepting him back with open arms, every newspaper publishing photos like he’s the second coming, and it’s almost too much to handle, but he knows he has to. And he has to handle it alone. Ned may know his secret, but he doesn’t think he’d understand the weight of a warm welcome from the people he abandoned.

He knows who he needs, and he feels awful knowing it. He feels even worse when he stands up and slips on his jacket, texting Aunt May where he’s going.

 

Fall is cold and grey, but so are the headstones, so it feels right in a way that few things do now. He walks through too many of the paved paths, passing a little over a dozen people with flowers and fresh tears on his way. He feels awful for coming as empty-handed as he has, but it was spur-of-the-moment. He doesn’t come as often as he wishes he did, but the thing on his chest that pushes down when he’s upset  _ crushes _ him when he comes here. Once, very early into his Spider-man days, he had tried to visit the grave after a night of patrol, but he’d ended up staring down at it from a tree, his costume feeling obnoxiously loud. Of course he’d gone and made himself a hero after what he’d done. Like he could pretend he could trade it, a life he’d saved for a life he hadn’t.

He stands. He stares down at the inscription of  _ “Ben Parker, beloved son, brother, husband, and uncle.”  _ He refuses to speak, because he knows if he does he’ll break down and ask for help, ask for a sign, and he can’t ask something like that of his Uncle. Without a noise he sinks down and lays a hand on the grave, tears falling down his face, carrying what he wishes he could say.

_ “May can’t tell when I’m lying anymore, and I think I’m losing her. I don’t want to lose the rest of my family.” _

_ “I’ve missed you more than I thought I could.” _

_ “I’m sorry I took responsibility so late.” _

_ “I’m sorry I gave up being Spider-man for so long.” _

_ “Ned doesn’t understand why I have to do this.” _

_ “May is worried about me, and I can’t keep doing this to her.” _

_ “No one knows what happened to you, still. I can’t bring myself to say it outloud. I’m sorry I haven’t told anyone.” _

_ “I’m sorry I can’t go out some nights.” _

_ “I’m sorry I can’t balance school and helping people.” _

_ “I’m sorry.” _

_ “I’m sorry.” _

_ “I’m sorry.” _

The tears won’t stop. He hopes Ben understands, if there’s any way he can.

May is waiting for him when he gets back to the apartment, with the candy he asked for and the hug he didn’t, and he can’t bring himself to return it.

He didn’t just take his Uncle Ben. He took his Aunt May’s husband. He ripped his family into a divisive line: here and not here. Peter Parker’s victims and Peter Parker’s victims-to-be. He has no right to Aunt May’s comfort.

They separate, and he shrinks into himself. As little space and destruction as possible. When she notices and reaches for him again, he tugs away. He doesn’t want to stain her hands with the blood on his.

“I’m tired. I think I’m going to head to bed. I’ll study tomorrow.”

“Don’t even worry about that. Studying doesn’t come before this, nothing does.”

“Okay.”

“Grief is a-” her breath hitches, and she blinks heavily for a moment. “It’s a process, Peter. It takes a long time. It’ll. . . it’ll never just go away.”

Grief or guilt. Grief  _ and  _ guilt. She could be talking about either. She could be talking about both.

As Peter tries to hide in his bed, hunched in on himself and sobbing, he knows that it’s both weighing on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> -Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> -Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> -Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> -Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> -Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> -Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)  
> -Steve Rogers helped people secretly during the time between Civil War and Infinity War


	9. The Five Stages of Grief and Guilt Are the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's process of mourning and self-blame are intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this killed me to write. I want to just hug Peter and tell him it's not his fault, or send him to therapy for help. I am so sorry for the angst in this chapter, and even more sorry to say I'm incredibly excited (from a writer's standpoint) to make it so much worse. I promise it will get better! (Briefly)
> 
> This also might be my last update until the end of the week, because I have way too many deadlines and way too much homework, but I will try to get more up as soon as possible! I've got the next chapter planned out ;)
> 
> I hope you're having a great day, and if not, I hope it gets better, enjoy! :D

_Denial_

Peter’s denial of his own guilt was brief, but still there. It occured in the few minutes between finding Uncle Ben in a back alley and the officers explaining to Aunt May what had happened. His denial was in his own mind, demanding who would do this, why wasn’t anyone here to help, why had no one stopped and helped him, why was Ben a target, why why why-

“There was a robbery a few blocks down, ma’am. The suspect got away. We think it was him when he escaped who. . . did this.” The voice sounded distant and warbled, and was clearly addressing his Aunt May. When did they leave the body? When had someone put a blanket on his shoulders? May was sobbing, he was aware of that, but when had he started doing the same? Had he been crying he since he found Ben? Had-

 _Wait._ A robbery. A few blocks down. Suspect armed with a gun. Escaped. Was it?

Peter vomits all over the blanket wrapped around him.

 

_Anger_

He had done this. He was the one who had let the guy go. His face turned red, his breathing rapidly became uneven. Someone was trying to pull the blanket away, replace it with something cleaner, but his fists were clenched so tightly around it it was immovable. Aunt May stared at him, like she wanted to help, but she didn’t know how. She was still dazed herself.

Because of him. Because Peter hadn’t been here. Aunt May was mourning, Ben was _dead,_ because Peter was dicking around where he wasn’t supposed to. He was late. He’d let the guy go. Everything he’d done tonight had led up to this, to blood and screaming, to the funeral that was coming. This was his fault. All of it. He’d fucked up so bad he’d killed Ben, it was on him.

He wanted to scream. He was responsible. Isn’t that what Ben always said? With great power comes great responsibility.

He had _superpowers._ He could have been a hero, but no. He didn’t stop him. He’d been too scared, too upset, too irresponsible to bother. And this is what he’d done. This was his fault.

An overpowering need for revenge filled his whole body, but how could he help? There was no one to blame but himself.

 

_Bargaining_

There was no fixing it, but on some nights he’d put enough bad guys behind bars to make him think he might just be a good guy. A hero. He hoped he was.

But deep down, he knew that there wasn’t enough heroism in the world to bring back the family he’d killed.

May still thought it was the robber’s fault. She didn’t know she lived under the same roof as a murderer. As the person responsible for the death of her husband. Sometimes, on nights Peter thought he might not be the scumbag he knew he was, he’d come back from patrol to hear his Aunt May crying through his walls, and he’d remember. He can’t trade lives. No matter how many he’d saved, he’d always be responsible for this one. He could never go back.

He took special care of his costume on those nights, even if they were the ones he wanted to tear the thing into pieces most. He hated it, what it represented. He knew no matter how many criminals he webbed to a wall, it was never enough. It never would be.

 

_Anger_

Steps are repeated in the process of grief. The same is true for the process of guilt.

Peter was freshly fifteen when he slammed the man he’d spent the last several months looking for against a wall. His teeth were chattering from the last bit of February’s harshest storm biting through his hand-sewn suit, but his blood was hot. He had finally found him.

The robber was a known junkie, and known junkies have known drug dealers, who have known street corners. Webbing the right people at the right time had led to where he was now.

The robber, the junkie, raised his hands in self-defense, screaming. “I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it!”

“You don’t even know what I’m here for, you piece of shit!” Peter shouted, punching his gut. The guy doubled over, but he was quick. He dodged Spider-man’s next hit, turning and running away as fast as he could, but Peter’s blind rage was faster. He webbed his feet, making the man fall onto his face, yelling.

“What do you wa-”

“You killed him!” he roared, leaping in front of the man. Horror flashed in his eyes, realizing why he was here.

“Listen, I just needed money, I just needed-”

“It doesn’t matter! You did this! He’s dead because of you! He had a fucking family!”

The robber was crawling away, shoving himself backwards, but Peter followed him, shouting more. This is what it had all been leading to. This is why he put on the suit. Helping people was important, but his Uncle Ben deserved justice. Deserved revenge. And Peter had punched enough mirrors. It was time to get the other guy.

The kick was hard and unexpected, but all of it was unexpected to the junkie. There was no escape, and he had his hands webbed to the ground, defenseless, when the police sirens went off in front of the building; the red and blue flashed through the shattered windows.

Peter froze, and he looked down at the bloody man in front of him. Looked down at the blood on his hands. Looked at the fear in the man who had shot his uncle’s eyes. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that the man laying in a heap in front of him, deserved everything he was going to get. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that Ben’s last words to him hadn’t meant this. This wasn’t the responsibility his powers had given him. Judge, jury, and executioner had to remain separate.

He was gone by the time the police entered the building. The next day was the first time _The Daily Bugle_ called him a public menace. He threw the paper onto the floor, determined to never earn the title again.

 

_Depression_

He slung his way into the cemetery, staying in the trees, until he was across from his Uncle Ben’s grave. His entire torso ached after the beating he’d taken from a convenience store robber that night, and from all the beatings he’d been taking nearly nonstop for a month and a half, and he’d wanted comfort. Knowing he couldn’t go to Aunt May had brought him here on instinct, but there was no comfort here, either. Staring down at the headstone that summed up his uncle in far fewer words than he deserved, he felt his whole body go numb. Why had he come here? He thought he could just waltz down, in costume, to the man who had died because he hadn’t had the courage to put it on sooner?

Peter had had his powers for weeks by the time Ben had died, and he’d done nothing but mess with them. It’s why he hadn’t been at the library like he’d told Ben he was. He had gone to a quiet part of town to test himself, to play with his webs and see how far he could jump. He’d treated his powers like a toy, like a game. He’d acted like a kid in a candy store. He’d acted like a fool. Saving people hadn’t even crossed his mind. And now? Now that his uncle was buried and his Aunt May had cried herself to sleep for months, now that he’d put on the suit that could have been a cheap Halloween costume, now he’s a “hero?” Just a good old “friendly neighborhood Spider-man?” If only the newspapers knew, if only the whole world knew what had gotten him here. He wasn’t a hero. He was a vigilante. He was a murderer looking for redemption. He was a coward hiding behind a noble cause.

He couldn’t bring himself to come down, to step any closer to the grave of the man he’d put six feet under, six feet away from his family and loved ones. Instead, he forced himself to leave.

He’d never come back in costume again. It felt wrong to act like a hero in front of the one man who knew he was anything but.

 

_Acceptance_

It’s a dark day out, and Peter hasn’t put down his picture of Uncle Ben. He’s been waging war in his own head for hours. Both sides are against him, but why is where they differ.

Does he hate himself as a murderer today? Or a lying criminal?

They come back to similar ends, anyway, so they agree to just hate him for both. It’s fair, he thinks.

It hits him in a much quicker way than one would expect, but it’s been several months coming, now.

“I killed you,” he whispers to the photograph. “I did this to you.” It’s his first time ever saying it out loud.

The weight on his chest is now a cavern. He knows. He knows he’s done this. He knows there’s no going back. He accepts his verdict _._

Acceptance is not the train wreck the rest of it was. Acceptance is when he knows. Acceptance is when he knows the day will come that he will face judgement for what he’s done.

Acceptance is knowing he’ll be found as guilty as he feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> -Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> -Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> -Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> -Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> -Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> -Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)  
> -Steve Rogers helped people secretly during the time between Civil War and Infinity War  
> -Peter Parker became Spider-man shortly after his Uncle Ben's death


	10. You've Got Heart, Kid (And a Couple Dozen Bruises)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter doesn't expect much when he goes out for a two a.m. insomnia induced patrol. When has Peter ever been allowed not to expect much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a little later than normal, again, but I've finally got my school's paper up and frickin' running, and this chapter is a little longer as an apology. I hope it makes up for the wait! Homecoming events are really starting to come into play now, but so are the differences of the AU. I hope you guys enjoy! :D
> 
> (It's also kind of way too late at night right now, so let me know if there are any glaring mistakes!)

It’s two o’clock in the morning, and he probably shouldn’t even be up, let alone out, but he hasn’t been able to sleep all night, and Ned stopped responding to his texts around midnight. He had told himself he shouldn’t go on patrol tonight, because the night before he’d gotten one too many scrapes and bruises, but there’s only so much a teenage insomniac can do at this hour. Besides, a few bruises are nothing compared to what he could be stopping.

He refuses to let himself think he might be out just to avoid thinking about the way the picture on his dresser whispers.

He stumbles onto a rooftop, gently cradling his right arm. He’d slammed into a building while he chasing down a bank robber, and now that he had been dropped off at the police station, Peter allows himself a brief respite. He collapses, breathing his way through the pain as he checks to make sure it’s not dislocated. It doesn’t feel like anything worse than a hard hit, and he’s relieved. He lets himself sit for just a moment longer, a wave of sudden drowsiness threatening to tide him over. Maybe he’d be able to exhaust the nightmares away if he went home now.

Suddenly, his spidey-senses go haywire, and he snaps his head up to find a looming figure at the other end of the roof. He jumps up, shooting a web out of his right wrist instinctually, and then regretting it. The pain is just enough to make his aim shotty, and he’s clearly damaged the web shooter. It barely lands at the man’s feet, which are now walking towards Peter. He jolts into a defensive position, backing one step away for every step the other man takes forward. His reaction makes the man stop, confusing Peter. He’s even more confused of what’s going on when the man holds his hands up, like a surrender.

“Wait. Sorry. I’m not here to hurt you,” he says. His voice is familiar, but gruffer, and Peter can’t place it. He’s not sure how to respond.

“Who are you?” he settles on. The man steps forward again, and Peter leaps backwards onto the building’s ledge, crouched down.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the guy repeats, like if he says it enough, Peter will believe him.

“You still haven’t answered me.”

“I was trying to let you see my face,” he clarifies. “I doubt you’ll believe me if you don’t see for yourself, and I’m not quite sure what you’ll do once you do believe me.”

“That’s reassuring,” Peter snorts. He eyes his dark figure up and down, and finally nods. “Step into the light. Step any further and you’ll be stuck to the roof.” He’s been working on improving his webbing, and with the web shooter it lasts five hours, now. Enough time to get away and get the cops. He’s planning at a mile a minute, up until the man actually does as he’s told.

“I’m Steve Rogers,” he says when he’s in visible light, like Peter doesn’t recognize him instantly. He has a beard now, his hair is shaggy and darker, his uniform is dingy and lacking most of its color, and he looks exhausted, but without a doubt, it’s him.

“Captain America,” he whispers, shocked beyond words. The Captain looks down, almost sheepish, when Peter calls him that, but his gaze quickly hardens again. It’s not a fighting face, though. “What are you doing here?”

He’s surprised, and he seems to give Peter a double-take. “That’s it? I’m a wanted man in 117 countries, and you aren’t running off?”

Peter shrugs, defensive. This guy is his hero, and as much as he doesn’t want to mess it up, he’s also in his Spider-man brain right now. He has to focus on the task at hand. Most important is New York.

“I don’t run from fights, sir.” His voice is higher than he means for it to be. So much for professionalism. “And I haven’t exactly rushed off to registration.”

Captain America, Captain Rogers, whatever he’s going by, now, smiles. “That’s true. It’s actually why I’m here.”

Peter tenses again. “What do you mean?”

“Why haven’t you registered?”

“Why haven’t you?” Peter snaps. He can’t risk giving telling anyone too much. He knows, logically, the Captain is probably on his side, that doesn’t mean Peter hasn’t been running from the Sokovia Accords for months, and high-profile superhero just showed up with too many questions.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m not here to turn you in. If either of us had the power to toss the other in a jail cell, it’d be you.”

Both of them fall quiet, waiting for the other to make a move. Peter believes him when he says he’s not here to turn him in, but that doesn’t give any other reason for him to be on the roof at two-thirty in the morning making conversation.

“If you’re not here to turn me in, then what are you doing?”

His face falls a little, and he steps forward, but Peter raises his arm, stopping him. “I’m here to help you,” he explains.

“Help me?” His voice is a squeak, and he wants to web himself in the face. He clears his throat, trying to let his confusion drown out his excitement. “What the hell does that mean?”

Both of them snap their heads, distracted from the conversation, when a giant eruption of blue smoke emerges in the distances. Peter stands up from crouching, dropping his defensive position and glancing at Cap.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks Peter, receiving a nod.

“If you can keep up.” Peter leaps off the building, shooting with his left wrist, internally screaming over having said something like that to _Captain America._ He glances back, and he can’t see where Cap went, but he’s definitely not on the roof anymore.

Either way, he’s not the priority.

He’s not very far from the bridge it was coming from, but having to constantly make up for his damaged web shooter slows him down. He eventually just pulls it off, tossing it to the ground, and tears off his glove. The webs make more noise, but they’re just as sturdy without anything helping them.

He falls gracelessly on his face after miscalculating his aim a block away from where the smoke went off, and decides it’s probably better for him to walk, making as little noise as possible.

After a few moments of sneaking down the street, he hears the sound of engine cut behind him. He glances back to see Captain Rogers hopping off a motorcycle, jogging to reach him. Spider-man puts his finger to his masked lips, gesturing for him to be quiet. Rogers nods. The two of them walk to the bridge, watching for anymore explosions. Another one goes off right as the bridge is in view, and the sound echoes, followed by a “Wooh!”

Spider-man points to Cap, and then to the bottom of the bridge, before silently leaping to the top of the bridge to get a better angle. Cap stays on the ground, waiting for his signal. If Peter weren’t so focused, he’d be unbelievably thrilled at working with his _literal hero,_ but Peter _is_ focused, so he can think about it later. Instead, he pays attention to the people below.

“This is crafted from a reclaimed sub-Ultron, straight from Sokovia,” the man holding what must have made the smoke explosion explains. Peter knows he recognizes most of the words, but he can’t make sense of them together. The man holding it tries to hand it over to the a second man, but he shakes his head.

“I was just lookin’ for something low-key, why are you tryin’ to upsell me, man?” he asks, eying the weapon suspiciously. Peter looks at the marks it had left on the ground and bridge and realizes it must have been the same kind of weapons that had blown the bodega last week.

“Okay, okay,” the first man responds. “I’ve got what you need, alright?” He loads what he’s got in his hands back into the van next to the two of them, searching through what else he has.

Peter creeps a little farther down the wall, still watching carefully in case either tries something.

“I’m just tryin’ to take down somebody, not shoot them back in time or whatever this is,” the buyer mumbles.

And then the whole meeting is interrupted by Peter’s phone yodeling loud enough to echo through the dark, startling the thugs and Peter himself. He feels like an idiot, rapidly pulling his phone out and slamming the “ignore call” button in front of Ned’s face. He shoves it back into a tight pocket, but it’s too late.

“What the hell was that?” the dealer asks, his bodyguard looking around for the source.

“Did you set us up?” the guard demands, pulling out his gun. Peter’s blood runs hot, shoving him into action as he leaps down from the bridge, into the scene.

“Hey, come on! If you’re gonna shoot at somebody, shoot at me!” He points at himself erratically. It’s not his best line, but it gets the gun pointed at him, so he thinks he’s at least done that.

The guard goes to pull the trigger, but Peter’s reflexes are too fast. He shoots a web over the barrel and then runs at them. The guard just steps aside, and all Peter can feel is the blinding pain of electrocuted metal slamming into his body with hundreds of pounds of force. He’s thrown completely backwards, slamming into a concrete pillar and collapsing. The men who were selling the weapons pile into the car, tires screeching as they drive away.

Cap rushes over to help Spider-man up, going to ask if he’s okay, but Peter’s already jumping up again, shooting the back end of the van. He’s tugged with a jolt at an alarming speed, his bruised body dragging against stone and hard ground as he tries to find a way to steady himself. He hears a distant shout that sounds like Captain Rogers’ voice in the distance, but he can’t make it out in detail, and then it’s gone, replaced by the roaring engine and the sound of him slamming into a garbage dumpster. He clings to the web desperately, trying to follow them to wherever they’re headed.

He shoots another web, balancing precariously as they race through a suburb. He gets a good enough angle that he can see the man in the back charge up whatever weapon he’s got his hands on now, and rolls out of the way before it can hit him. One of the backdoors is blown off, and half the side as he fires again. He aims one more time, and this time he gets close enough to throw Peter off balance, and his webs detach. He shoots again, but just pulls off the second door.

“Fuck!” he exclaims, jumping away as the door propels itself towards him. He glances at the house next to him. “I guess I’ll just have to take a shortcut.”

He leaps over the fence, landing next to a car, and runs through the backyard. Two men are staring at him as they play table tennis, so he waves and says, “Good game!” before jumping over their back fence, too. The next yard over is empty other than a dog, who leaps onto him. He webs a ball into his hand and then tosses before running from there, too, trying to listen to the van and keep in the direction it was headed. He races through a pool party, a grill-out, and a kids’ backyard camping trip before he finally catches up with the weapon dealers again. He follows them along the rooftops, not wanting to tip them off about how close he is. When they finally reach the end of the block, he tries to spring off the eaves and down to the van.

He feels something jerk him up, though, something hot, sharp, and metallic. It drags him towards the sky by his foot, and he has no vantage to fight back. When he can finally see what has him, he’s met with neon green eyes and a hulking mass of metal. He tries to tug free of the thing’s grasp, but it’s much stronger than he is, and his hands keep slipping as they rise. His mind clears for just a moment, and he shoots his web straight at the green eyes. Something must slip, or he must have shocked the man just right, and he free falls straight into the water below him.

Hitting water from that height at that speed knocks the wind out of him, and his costume lets it rush into his mouth. He struggles, delirious and unaware of what direction is up, and he can feel himself losing oxygen as time goes on. As he struggles, his vision goes blurry at the edges, but he still starts when he sees something big moving towards him. He tries to jerk away, but it latches onto him, pulling him to what he can only hope is air.

It thankfully is, and he collapses against the body that had helped him when he can breathe again. It continues to move, swimming towards the shore, he realizes dazedly. After a few more seconds he registers a deep voice muttering, “Come on, kid, you’re gonna be alright,” that he recognizes as Captain America.

He’s hoisted up onto shore, coughing, and then sat up by Cap against some kind of play structure.

“Are you okay? Can you speak?” he asks, panicked, and Peter nods in response, coughing again.

“I’m fine,” he chokes out. _Just incredibly embarrassed._ “Thanks, sir.”

Cap shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me. And we have to get these wet clothes off of you. I think. It’s pretty cold out.” He doesn’t seem very sure.

“I, uh, can’t exactly take off the mask,” Peter points out. “And I don’t have anything to change into. It’s cool, I’ll switch into something back at my place.” He goes to stand, but immediately collapses. His entire body throbs much worse than it had at the beginning of his outing, and he honestly considers the thought of having broke something before deciding he’s probably just severely bruised.

Captain Rogers catches him before he can land completely on the ground, and then settles him.

“Goddammit!” he exclaims half-heartedly. “I almost had them, the guy with the wings must have been the dealer, _obviously,_ I should have had enough sense to follow him, dammit.” He punches the ground with no force, sighing. Even the small action kills his body, his voice hitching in pain at the end.

“Kid, you just chased down a weapons dealer and were then dragged into the sky by his boss and dumped into a river. None of that is your fault,” Rogers says gently, but Peter huffs and tries to stand again. He doesn’t need Captain America’s comfort. He’s not a kid, he’s Spider-man. He knows what he should’ve done.

Standing up is slow and miserable, and Captain Rogers offers his hand. Peter waves it away, gritting his teeth. “I was just distracted tonight. I don’t know. I could’ve handled that.”

“I have no doubt you could have. But it’s pretty late. You got school in the morning?”

Peter’s breath catches, his whole body tensing. “What do you mean? I mean, yeah, I got a job, but it’s fine.”

“I,” the Captain starts, looking down. “Listen, I’m gonna tell you this because I don’t want you to find out later and feel betrayed, alright?” He glances around, making sure the playground is empty before lowering his voice. “I know who you are.”

Panic wells up in Peter’s chest, tightening what muscles aren’t already strained to their capacity. “No. No, you don’t, there’s no way for you to know that, no way in _hell-”_

“Like I said earlier, if either one of us could turn the other in, it wouldn’t be me, and I would never, anyway. I respect what you’ve done, even if you’re a little young-”

“That’s not your call to make!” Peter yells, shaking as he clutches the play structure behind him to stay up.

Captain Rogers nods. “You’re absolutely right, it’s not. I think you’re young, but I think you’re self-aware. I just want to help you, make sure you don’t get hurt while doing this.”

“Why? What’s so important about the friendly neighborhood Spider-man?”

He smiles at him, just a little. “Because you’ve got heart, kid. It makes sense you’re from New York.”

Peter feels a sense of camaraderie with Rogers for a moment, but he can’t sweep aside his fear. “How did you find out?”

He shrugs. “I have connections.”

“No, that’s not going to be good enough. If you can find out, that means someone else might be able to, too.”

“No, trust me, no one’s as good as who I’ve got.” Peter doesn’t feel convinced, and he’s sure it shows on his face. “Both of us have some secrets, okay? I just don’t want to put my contacts at risk. I’m kind of a wanted man.”

Peter stares him up and down. He knows this is risky. This is two people within a month and a half finding out his identity. And as much as he’s always admired Captain America, there’s a difference between an idol and a confidant.

But the open look on his face, and the fact that he had saved him from drowning tonight, makes Peter think he might be able to trust him. And maybe he’s just too exhausted to be guarded.

“Fine. It’s not like we could turn each other in without all the information, right?” he jokes, and the Captain grins.

“Exactly. It’s a safeguard of sorts.”

“Our identities might work well enough for a safeguard, I think.”

Peter smiles, and he hopes it’s visible through his mask. He gestures vaguely. “I think I’d better head home, now. How long are you in town?”

“Not really sure. You seem to have the area well-covered, but I’ve got some business here if you don’t mind me staying?”

He shakes his head as passionately as he can without his whole body shutting down from pain. “No, of course not!”

“Alright. I hope we can work together again, sometime.” He chuckles. “If an old man like me can keep up.”

“Well, you managed to find me in the water.”

He points behind Peter, and he follows the gesture to find a motorcycle parked in the grass by a swingset. “It was tough to follow you when you cut through yards, but I managed to find you. And then I saw that guy with wings show up…”

“Yeah. Guess that makes sense.”

“You need a ride?”

Peter shakes his head. “No, I’ll be alright.” He fiddles with his remaining web shooter. It’s too waterlogged to use, but he’ll be fine without it. No one is awake to hear his webs or see him miscalculate a building’s height by a foot or two.

“You sure? You’re pretty banged up.”

“I’m fine. Really, thank you though, sir.”

He shakes his head. “Just call me Steve, kid.”

Peter gets a little jolt of excitement. “Yeah, yeah, sure, Steve.”

“Take care of yourself. I’ll see you around.” He pulls a soaking card out of his pocket with smeared pen on it. “It’s a little wet, but just call that number if you need anything. It’s no problem.”

Peter takes it, grinning, and Steve waves, walking away to his bike. Peter feels like he should immediately call Ned and freak out about everything that just happened, but it’s nearly four in the morning, and he’s exhausted down to his very bones.

He’s so tired that on his way back, he almost doesn’t notice the glowing, purple fragment that must have been left behind by the weapons guys.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> -Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> -Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> -Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> -Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> -Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> -Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)  
> -Steve Rogers helped people secretly during the time between Civil War and Infinity War  
> -Peter Parker became Spider-man shortly after his Uncle Ben's death  
> -Steve Rogers helps Peter Parker with being Spider-man instead of Tony Stark


	11. Healing's a Process

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter manages to track down the weapon suppliers to an out-of-state location, but he's not sure what to do next. What happens if he leaves Queens? He calls in a favor he's a little nervous he has no right to call in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all of your kudos and comments, it's so awesome to hear feedback and that you're liking this! There's a little bit of side-plot in this chapter about what's going on in Steve's life, but no worries. Spider-man's story won't be taken over by *this* mentor, haha :)

Ned walks into the shop room early the next morning to find Peter hammering at the piece of tech he found last night and wincing with every movement. He’s sitting on a tall stool that lets him get the right angle, but takes weight off his shaky legs. It’s before first period, so he’s almost alone, save a few stoned seniors and stressed juniors. Neither of them can be bothered with a sophomore smashing into a glowing hunk of metal. There’s the shop teacher, too, but he’s across the room with his head buried in a newspaper.

“Hey, sorry I passed out last night. Didn’t mean to leave you hanging. How come you ignored my call?” Ned asks.

Peter gestures limply to the piece of a weapon in front of him. Every time he moves, spikes off pain shoot through his whole body. Trying to hit whatever’s in front of him hard enough to get the glowing purple orb out has been killing him. “Something came up.” He lifts his hand with the hammer again, carefully as he can, and his sleeve falls slightly as he hits the metal again.

“Woah, what’s that?” Ned questions, shocked.

“I don’t know, but some guy tried to vaporize me with it.”

“What, really? No, wait, I wasn’t talking about that, I meant your arm.”

Peter glances down. He’d worn a long sleeve shirt for a reason. Last night’s activities were obvious with the deep purple bruises covering his entire forearm (and everything past it, too, but Ned can’t see that). He has quicker healing than most since the bite, but it’ll still be a few days before he wears a t-shirt.

He goes to shrug and regrets it, his body freezing for momentarily at the jarring action. “From the same guy.”

“How are you still, like, existing?”

“Eh, I’ve had worse,” Peter jokes. It’s not true. He knows it’ll scare Ned to think he’s dealt with this before, but it scares himself to think this is a new kind of pain with no experience on how to deal with it.

“That’s scary as hell, dude.”

“Whatever, I think this purple thing is the power source,” Peter deflects, trying a different tactic of prying the orb out instead of smashing.

Ned rolls with it, or maybe he gets a little distracted by his own interest in what Peter has. Either way, Peter is grateful. “Yeah, but it’s connected to all these microprocessors.” He points out a specific section. “That’s an inductive charging plate. It’s what I use to charge my toothbrush.”

“Whoever’s making this weapon is obviously combining alien tech with ours,” Peter agrees.

“That’s literally the coolest sentence anyone has ever said. I just want to thank you for letting me be a part of your superhero origins, even if I’m not the guy in the chair.” Peter rolls his eyes, but they both grin at each other. He can joke about it as long as Ned isn’t being serious about being put in so much danger.

“I really don’t think these are my ‘superhero’ origins, but okay.”

“Oh, come on, what else wo-” Ned stops himself, realizing what he’s saying. He awkwardly stumbles on his words for a moment, and Peter tries not to let his face fall too obviously. He slams the hammer down harder than necessary and much harder than his aching joints are okay with, but the orb finally is freed and falls to the ground with a huge burst of sound.

Ned and Peter both glance up to stare in horror at the teacher, but he doesn’t even look in their direction. They refocus on the orb.

It’s not actually orb-shaped now that it’s been removed. It looks more like an elongated guitar pic. Peter speaks first, picking it up from the floor. “We gotta figure what this thing is and who makes it.”

“We’ll go to the lab after class and run some tests.”

Peter agrees, and Ned and him perform an elaborate handshake that the two of them had invented years ago and ingrained in their memories, with Ned being careful not to put too much pressure on Peter’s arm. Peter is grateful and goes to stand, but instantly regrets it.

He’d gotten used to having little pressure on his lower body to hold himself up, and the sudden change makes his vision blur for a terrifying moment. He grips the edge of the table, leaning forward. He’d thrown up this morning two hours before May had woken up just from the pain, and had taken some over-the-counter pain meds they’d had on hand. They weren’t enough.

“Peter?” Ned’s voice is panicked but quiet, knowing drawing attention might not end well for his friend. Peter works on slowing his breathing and tries to will his eyes into seeing again. There’s a dent in the steel table in the shape of his hand.

“I’m, I’m fine, Ned,” he huffs out.

“No, you’re not, and you should probably go home.”

“If I go home, May will ask questions.”

“Dude, at this point, I want to ask questions. What the hell happened last night?”

Peter tries to force a smile, gasping for breath. His heart rate is evening out, though. “You’re not even gonna believe me when I tell you.”

“What, did Iron Man show up and blast you?”

“Better.”

“You mean your dream crush Thor showed up to save you from a group of thugs with his mighty hammer and roguish hair?”

Peter chuckles without moving his body at all. “Fuck off, now I’m not telling you.” He pauses, panting. “And his hammer’s name is Mjolner.”

“Yeah, trust me, buddy, you’ve told me before.”

Eventually Peter’s breathing regulates, and he can stand on his own without feeling like he’s going to be sick, so the two of them head out slowly. They’ve still got half an hour before school starts, which means ten minutes until the busses arrive and the halls crowd. It’s probably better if Peter doesn’t get bumped by a whole lot of people today, so Ned walks him to his first hour as Peter spills everything from last night.

“No way,  _ Captain America?  _ Right here in Queens? You got to meet Captain  _ freaking  _ America and  _ he told you to call him Steve?” _

“I know! It’s crazy!”

“How do you think he found out? You know, about who you are?”

“I don’t know. I mean, he’s got to have some high-level connections, right?”

“But would anyone stay in contact? I mean, once Stark disavowed him-”

Two men round the corner in front of them, and Peter stops dead before leaping to the side down the hall, his whole body shuddering as he does. “Crap crap crap shit crap Ned, come on,” he hisses. Ned rushes over to him, confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Shhhh!”

Peter glanes past the corner to the men, anxiously watching them. It’s the dealer and the bodyguard from last night. The dealer is carrying around a large buzzing device that he looks like he’s scanning with.

“They must have a tracker on the glowy thing,” Ned whispers. “Why don’t you have trackers like that?”

Peter rolls his eyes and turns back to Ned. “I do. I’ve got one in my suit in case someone steals it and,” he shoves his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small black location tracker, “another one for situations like this.”

He looks past the corner, where they’re turning down a hallway. “I’ll be back.”

He goes to follow the men, but Ned grabs his arm. He flinches violently as his whole side practically groans in pain. “Dude, you can’t go after them like this!”

“They’ll probably lead me to the guy who dropped me in the lake, I’ve got to.”

Ned’s grip loosens as his eyes widen. “Someone dropped you in a lake?”

“I’ll explain it later, just stay here.”

He turns and rushes down the hall after the two men.

He follows them all the way back into the shop room, where the kids have cleared off to head to wherever they need to be. Peter’s not sure where the teacher is.

He creeps down the stairs, listening as the two speak to each other. He notes a bag one of them had been carrying earlier at the bottom of the steps. Keeping his eyes on the two men, he carefully slips the tracker from out of his pocket and into the duffel bag.

“Man, can you imagine what the boss would say if he knew where we were?”

“It’s saying there was an energy pulse right here,” the bodyguard replies cooly as the dealer rifles through a worktable.

The worktable Peter had been at earlier.

“There’s no sign of the weapon,” he sighs as Peter slowly crouches next to a table, setting his books down silently. He continues inching towards another worktable. “Even if it was here, now it’s gone.”

“Then so are we.” They go to turn around, and Peter panickedly rolls under the table he’s at, clinging to its underside as they head towards the stairs. They hesitate at his table. The stool sitting upside down above him is rattling, and even if his spidey senses weren’t enhancing everything going on, the noise would still sound like an explosion. He holds his breath, his muscles aching as he holds his position, frozen.

He doesn’t let himself breathe until they’re completely up the stairs.

 

“What are you guys up to tonight? We could rent a movie,” May offers as Ned and Peter toss off their shoes and backpacks.

“I think we’re gonna rebuild the Death Star!” Peter tells her excitedly. “Thanks, though.”

It is technically true. Ned had brought over the whole Lego set to rebuild it. But Peter also has the app for his tracker on for the two of them to watch.

They set up as soon as they enter his room.

“Are you going to tell Captain America about them coming to school?” Ned asks excitedly, pulling out the beginning pieces.

“No, why would I?”

“He could probably help.”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t need his help. I’ve got it under control.”

He opens the app and shows it to Ned. “It says they’re in Brooklyn right now. We just have to see where they stop. It’ll probably be their safehouse or something.”

Ned looks up at him, grinning. “You think these guys have an evil lair? Badass.”

Peter laughs. “Yes, Ned. We live in a comic book with super villains who have evil lairs where their faces are carved in gold and marble.”

His watch goes off, and he practically sighs in relief. He opens a drawer in his desk and takes out a bottle full of ibuprofen, shaking out three pills and dry swallowing them. Ned flinches sympathetically. “Has it gotten any better than this morning?”

“Yeah, definitely. Still hurts, though. My healing factor should take care of it quick enough.”

“How quick?”

“I don’t know. I think something like this will be gone in, like, three days?”

“How does May not notice?”

“What do you mean?”

Ned shrugs, refocusing on the Legos. “It’s just that if stuff like this happens all the time, you’d think she would get suspicious.”

“I’m good at making sure nobody notices stuff like this. I mean, you never did before, right?”

A weird look of realization passes over Ned’s face, and he looks almost guilty. “I guess you’re right.”

“It’s whatever, dude,” Peter tries to cover the sudden tension. He sits down at his desk chair, pulling out a box underneath the desk. “You mind if I work on my web shooters while you do that?”

“Um? Obviously I don’t? That’s cool as hell.”

The two of them work in relative quiet, occasionally making a sarcastic comment under their breaths or one of them interrupting by saying “Ah, fuck,” at their project, only to get the automatic response of “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

“Hey, they’re in Staten Island now,” Ned pipes up, and then they begin to trade off locations as they work.

“Leaving Jersey,” Peter comments as he uses his web shooter on the wall, testing its aim.

“I mean, who would want to stay?” Ned quips.

Eventually both of them fall asleep, Peter in his chair and Ned on Peter’s bed next to a half-finished Death Star. Both of them are jolted awake around five in the morning when Peter’s phone alerts them of the tracker not moving for over an hour.

He tiredly grabs his phone, wiping his eyes. “Maryland?” He looks over at Ned. “Who sets up a secret lair in Maryland?”

“No one’s going to go looking for you there,” Ned points out, yawning. “What are you gonna do if they’re so far away?”

Peter hesitates. “I don’t know. It’s like three and a half hours from here, I think.”

“It’s not too far from D.C.”

“So?”

“The Decathlon leaves for Washington on Monday. You can just say your schedule cleared. It’s not like Mr. Harrington is going to say no to you replacing Flash.”

“I mean yeah, but.” Peter looks at the web shooter on his wrist. “I feel like I can’t just leave New York for that long.”

“Dude, it’s only a three day trip.”

“Four with drive time.”

“Just four days! I think New York can make it.”

Peter looks down.  _ It’ll just be a few hours,  _ he’d promised Ben. “I can’t just up and leave.”

“Yeah, you can.”

Peter bites his lip, thinking. It hits him like a smack in the face. “Maybe I can-” He cuts himself off, opening his top drawer and grabbing his phone from the desk. He quickly punches in the number.

“Who are you calling?” Ned questions, looking at the paper.

“Shh!” Peter shushes him. If he says it out loud he’ll probably convince himself not to call.  _ This is a stupid idea, it’s five o’clock, he’s not gonna pick u- _

“Hello?” a hushed voice answers, cutting off Peter’s train of thought. His mouth runs dry, freezing his tongue for a moment.

“Um, hi, Captain Rogers. It’s me, uh, from the other night? You know…” he’s reluctant to say too much on the phone. Ned’s eyes widen as he realizes who’s on the other end.

“Is that  _ Captain America?” _ he whisper demands, and Peter waves him off.

“I told you, you can just call me Steve. Not too sure anyone out there is calling me a Captain of anything anymore. And you can say whatever you need to, the line’s secure. Any reason you called?”

“Uh,” Peter starts. “Yeah, actually. I was just curious how long you think your business in town will be?”

“Probably a while.”

“Cool, cool.”  _ That means he’s busy, you shouldn’t have called.  _ “So, I’ll actually be out of town for a little bit next week. Sorry, I know you’ve probably got a million other things going on, I was just wondering if you might have time to, I don’t know, double check my area at night? Just to make sure everything’s running smoothly, sorry, I-”

“It would be no problem to take over your patrol for a little bit, kid!” Rogers interrupts easily. “Where you headed?”

Peter’s taken aback by how willing he was to help him. “Oh, well, I-”

“Sorry, you don’t gotta tell me if it’s personal,” he assures him.

“No, no, it’s just an academic decathlon, nothing big, it’s really no big deal to miss it if you can’t-”

“Of course it’s big. And it’s no problem at all. I’ll keep the streets clean for when you get back, alright?”

Peter smiles, relieved. “Thanks so much, Mr.- Steve.”

“You don’t have to thank me, really. Good luck at the… academic dec-thing.” He sounds sincere, even when he stumbles over the words. “Oh, and if it’s something official for the school, you might not want to go out the night before leaving or the night after getting back.”

“Huh?”

“So Spider-man’s disappearance doesn’t coincide with yours. Don’t want any more suspicion, right?”

“Oh, yeah, duh. That makes sense,” Peter agrees, chiding himself for not thinking of that earlier.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pitch in those nights, too.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to-”

There’s a buzzing on the other end, followed immediately by a small crash.

“Dammit,” Steve mutters. “Sorry, I have to go, but I’ll take care of it, kid. Really, it’s no problem. Just send me the dates you’ll be gone. Good luck! Call me if you need anything else.”

The line cuts as Peter rushes out, “Thank you so much!”

Peter takes the phone away from his ear slowly, a little in shock, looking over to his friend. Ned’s face has gone slack. “He, uh, says he can take over while I’m gone.”

_ “HolyshityouhaveCaptainAmerica’snumbercanyougetmeanautograph?” _

 

“How is it back in New York?” Bucky asks.

“Good. A little weird, you know, but good,” Steve responds awkwardly. It’s the first time Bucky’s called him first. He’s been so busy adjusting and dealing with his own head and small life in Wakanda, and Steve hasn’t wanted to rush him to talking to him.

“Yeah, sure.”

The pause feels like it holds too much weight. Steve wants to ask how his memory is coming along, what it’s been like waking up, talk to him about how hard it is, how different everything is from when they both were young and not wanted criminals. He wants to ask simple things, like how his goats are. Shuri and T’Challa says he has five he’s taking care of, but Bucky still hasn’t mentioned them to him.

“Shuri told me about the kid. How’s he?”

“He’s alright. Just called me to ask if I could take over his patrols for a bit. He’s headed to some kind of science thing.”

Bucky falls quiet again, and Steve worries he’s said something wrong until Bucky says, “We went to one of those before I left.”

Steve chokes up for a moment. “Yeah. I think his is a competition, we were just headed for fun, but yeah, something like that. You remember?”

“Some kind of flying car.”

Steve laughs. “I think we’re a little past flying cars nowadays.” He avoids talking about who exactly had presented it.

“Now we’ve got kids swinging from webs in bug costumes.”

“We had stuff like that back in the war. You were best friends with the 40s version,” he jokes.

“Yeah, I guess I was.”

Both of them fall silent again, stuck in distance and time and the messy disaster the two had created. Steve’s almost sure Bucky will hang up until he goes,

“Has Shuri told you anything about my goats?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key Differences:
> 
> Key differences so far:
> 
> -Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> -Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> -Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> -Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> -Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> -Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)  
> -Steve Rogers helped people secretly during the time between Civil War and Infinity War  
> -Peter Parker became Spider-man shortly after his Uncle Ben's death  
> -Steve Rogers mentors Peter Parker


	12. The Straw That Broke The Spider's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Peter makes his way to D.C., the world makes no time for Spider-man's leisure. Teenagers are stressed as it is, and now Tony Stark has gotten thrown into the mix. Ned can't take it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me write a formal apology to y'all for this. It's been way too long, and I know it. Thanks to everybody who wrote comments and kudo'd this even as I took a much longer-than-expected break. My motto this past week has been, "Sorry, I've been busy." I will try my hardest to not do this again, but I promise I am with this fic 'til the end of the line. Please enjoy this kind of short chapter and know that there will be another one, soon :)

It’s an awkward bus drive on the way to D.C. Most of the other kids are miffed Peter just showed up out of the blue and was let back on the team, but they’re also glad Flash is back to first alternate. Peter doesn’t want to push too many buttons, so he sits behind the last few kids with Ned as Liz practice quizzes the group. The two of them trade off participating and watching the tracker to make sure the dealers don’t leave Maryland.

“Do you think the guys are still there?” Ned asks quietly after Peter quickly answers a question about the strongest metals on Earth.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you tracked their bag, not them. What if they just dropped it off somewhere?”

“It’ll probably be their base if it’s not with them, which is just as important.”

Peter’s phone rings, interrupting them and the practice. He looks down to see the burner number from Rogers’ phone, and he hastily moves to the back of the bus to answer it. Liz gives him a look that he tries to ignore, mouthing, “Sorry, it’s important.”

He sits in the last seat on the bus and answers quietly, “Hello?”

“Hey, kid. Sorry to call, I know you’re headed down to the Decathlon, but I just thought you should know. Tony. Tony Stark spoke to the press about you. He was-” he cuts himself off, sighing. Peter tenses, hunching over into the phone. “Listen, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I just wanted you to hear it before you read it out of some paper first.”

“Oh.” Peter’s stomach is rolling with every bump of the bus. Anything Tony Stark has to say about Spider-man can’t be good. “What did he. . .?”

“He just. Publically he hasn’t been the most. You know? Composed. Lately. So it wasn’t positive. I really. . . If you ever need to take some time off from the backlash, I can-”

“No, no,” Peter interrupts, voice shaking. He tries to compose himself with a joke. “I work for the most famous anti-me paper in New York. Thanks for the offer, but I think I can handle it.”

Rogers doesn’t sound like he believes him. “Alright, but the offer stands. Anytime.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. Thanks. I gotta go, but thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course. And kid, I- I’m just sorry. That you and everybody else got sucked into Stark’s guilt trip. You and your aunt shouldn’t have to worry like this.” His voice is sincere and upset, and Peter isn’t sure how to respond. Luckily, he doesn’t have to. “I’ll let you get back to your team, though. Try to have fun, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Peter hangs up the phone, his hands shaking. The sick feeling isn’t going away, but he has to know. He opens up his newsfeed, and he doesn’t even have to search anything. It’s all over every station.

“Tony Stark Publicly Condemns ‘Spider-Boy!’”

“Vigilantism on the Rise, and Public Hero Iron Man Condemns It”

“What Does Tony Stark Think of Local Queens Hero?”

“People Demand Answers After Tony Stark Declares Spider-Man a Coward”

“Outcry Over Stark Demanding Spider-Man ‘Hand Over the Suit’”

He doesn’t open up the video. He can’t bring himself to. He just sits, not even scrolling anymore, feeling tears roll down his cheeks. He’s long overdue for a full mental breakdown, but he’s on a bus heading towards his next mission and filled with people who can’t see him like this. He wipes his tears slowly, wanting to get back to practice. He can’t make himself stand.

“Peter? What’s wrong?”

He looks up to realize Ned is sitting across from him, still holding the tracker. When did he get there?

“Peter?” he asks again. Peter hands him his phone without thinking about it and watches his face grow more and more worried.

That’s what snaps Peter back to life. He doesn’t want Ned to worry. He doesn’t want this to become Ned’s life, too.

He takes his phone back, standing up. “Come on, we’ve gotta practice.”

“Do you really-”

“Ned, I wasn’t even going to do this until yesterday. I’ve got to get in as much practice as possible.”

“You have to talk about this, dude.”

“I can’t right now, okay? Just. I need to focus. I’ve got a million other things on my radar right now, and one more dangerous person hating me isn’t even on my top ten.”

“Yeah, but it’s _Tony Stark,_ this isn’t just dangerous, this is possibly deadly. If that guy comes after you with the Iron Man suit-”

“He won’t unless he’s given permission.”

“That guy doesn’t actually follow the Accords and you know it.”

“Almost like they were a shitty idea.”

“You’re changing the fucking subject,” Ned finally snaps, glaring at him. “You just can’t keep doing this. You’re gonna kill yourself.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you! As soon as you got over thinking it was cool, I knew this would happen.”

“You didn’t to tell me, or May for that matter, because you knew we’d be right!”

Ned’s last comment comes out louder than he means for it to, and a few of the kids look back at them, including Liz. Peter’s face heats up. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Ned looks at the gazes directed at them and sighs. “Fine. But we need to.”

They both go back to their seat, arms crossed and Peter’s backpack between them.

 

The stress between the two of them is high when they enter their hotel room. It’s late in the afternoon, and they have to meet everyone for dinner in an hour and a half, but until then everyone is supposed to get adjusted to their rooms.

Peter tosses his backpack, quickly followed by himself, onto his bed. Ned shuffles over to the second one, farther away from the door. The silence is stony.

It takes fifteen minutes of Ned’s laptop keys deafening him for Peter to finally say, “It was a dick move to bring up May, and you knew it.”

“Yeah, I did,” Ned admits, remorseless. “Because you needed to understand what I was saying.”

“I get that it’s dangerous. I knew that from the start.”

“It kind of concerns me that you don’t care. I mean, does your suit even have padding?”

“I have a healing factor.”

“Yeah, and it took you days to heal from the last thing you did with Captain America. Healing factor isn’t immortality.”

Peter turns to meet Ned’s eyes. “What do you expect me to do? Just stop helping people?”

“No, but maybe take a goddamn break every once in awhile. You fucking work for _The Daily Bugle,_ you’re perfectly used to people hating you. You don’t even like Tony Stark that much. That wasn’t why you were crying on the bus.”

“I-”

“You’re overworked. You’re sore. You’re fucking exhausted. Aunt May talked to me, and she’s this close to forcing you to go to therapy, and I’m kind of on her side at this point. You just. You can’t keep going until you’re completely broken down. What’s New York going to do when Spider-man disappears because Peter Parker snapped and killed his editor or some shit?”

Peter snorts despite himself, but Ned only gives him a small smile. “I get it, okay? Whatever. I just…”

“You just need a break.”

Peter’s eyes start to water, and he tries to blink it away, but he can’t stop himself from crying. He curls into himself, yanking his blanket up to his neck. Ned closes his laptop and sits next to him.

“I don’t know how to do this. I’m a shitty vigilante.”

“You’re a teenager trying to save an entire city. You’re gonna fuck up occasionally.”

“I’ve been doing this for nearly a year.”

“With almost no time off other than when you were hiding from the international government.”

Peter can’t argue. He doesn’t want to anymore. “I’ll get padding for the suit,” he mumbles.

“And you’ve got Captain America in town, dude. See what days he can take over.”

“Being a superhero doesn’t work like supermarket job.”

“I’ve never even had a supermarket job, I wouldn’t know how that works either.”

They grin at each other and Ned stands up. “Take a freaking nap or something before dinner. You need a break before you go out tonight.”

Peter goes to close his eyes, but one last thing keeps them open. “Do you really think I have to tell May? Like, you know why I can’t, right?”

Ned pauses. “Yeah, I know. I think it’s up to you.”

“But?”

“But I think she deserves to know.” He meets Peter’s gaze. “Especially if Ben was one of the reasons.”

Peter breaks eye contact, tightening up more.

“I need some sleep.”

He turns around, making sure to glance at the door to see if it’s locked, before fitfully falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> -Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> -Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> -Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> -Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> -Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> -Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)  
> -Steve Rogers helped people secretly during the time between Civil War and Infinity War  
> -Peter Parker became Spider-man shortly after his Uncle Ben's death  
> -Steve Rogers mentors Peter Parker  
> -Tony Stark went slightly reclusive media-wise after the Accords, and his public image was dampened by a few outbursts he made to the press


	13. "Spider-Boy"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A video of Tony Stark shouting at the press goes viral, but it's just the latest in a series of news stories and controversies surrounding the once-dubbed "hero." Spider-Man's loved ones and close friends have to deal with their own reactions and what they mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair! Last week was Halloween and I had a real reason for being so late this time! I'm still sorry this took so long to update, but it looks like so much is going on in my life now that ten days is about the time it takes for me to write, edit, and update. Sorry, I hope you guys don't mind.  
> I still love all of your guys' comments and kudos and I try to respond to any questions! Thank you so much for staying with this fic!  
> Have a great day and enjoy this update :)

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, do you care to comment on the rumors you’ve taken up drinking again?”

“Mr. Stark is not answering any questions right now. He has no comment.”

“Sir, last night the Iron Man suit was used in Iran under the government’s orders. Was that you in the suit or someone else?”

“What do you have to say about the rumors of your drug addiction?”

“Do you care to comment on the trial over your ability to run Stark Industries?”

“Is it true that Pepper Potts’ didn’t tell you about calling off the engagement?”

“What do you have to say about Ms. Potts’ claim that you’ve been tampering with the government Iron Man suits?”

He keeps walking. Bodyguards surround his shaking form, silently blocking the press. Stark ignores them pointedly, but his eyes can’t remain on the ground. He looks like a caged animal.

He looks like a man who regrets his decisions. Every question makes his cheeks redder, his walk heavier, and finally the journalists get their reaction.

“What do you think of Spider-Man’s recent activity in Queens?”

Stark stops completely, his face a balance of blank and hateful, and he turns directly to the woman who asked him the question. His bodyguard reaches a hand out, but he shoves it away.

“What do I think of the Spider-Boy?” he demands. “The masked fucking coward?”

Dozens of microphones are shoved at him, eating up every rage-and-liquor-diluted word he says.

“I think that some people out there like to hide behind good pretenses and happy-go-lucky team spirit and city protection. Fucking criminals with morality complexes get to be the face of justice in vigilante law. Only cowards hide behind a shield and a mask.” The cameras keep flashing as he raises his voice. His bodyguards restrain him from getting any closer to the press, trying to pull him away when he staggers forward. “You got that, Cap? If this Spider-Shit really was the hero he wanted to be, he’d pull his head out of the sand and sign the Accords. It’s the law, and you don’t get to pick and choose. Hand over the suit, asshole! Lock yourself up and get your shit together. The next time I hear about some dumbass kid with no understanding of basic law, I’ll whip out my Iron Man suit myself!”

 

The Decathlon team falls silent, staring at Flash’s phone as the video finishes. Tony Stark’s face, red and angry, is a frozen photograph of alcoholism and anger issues. No one knows what to say until someone manages, “Holy shit.”

Everybody else nods vaguely, unsure of how to react.

“Was he drunk?” one of them finally asks.

“When is he not?”

“He can’t do this, can he? I mean, he can’t make it after this.”

“There’s got to be a line he can’t cross.”

Michelle angrily mutters, “Pepper Potts was _hospitalized_ and they didn’t do anything. Tony Stark can do whatever he wants, and he knows it,” and the rest of them fall silent.

What happened to accountability?

 

May Parker shuts the TV off and storms out of the apartment, unable to be in the same room she had watched the video in. She’s never liked Stark, from his playboy war profiteer stage to his self-righteous “I am Iron Man” stunt, and now everything he had been pulling after the Accords? The man hadn’t followed a set of rules he didn’t like in his life, and this had been no different. He’d been caught boozing and cheating so much that not even the most pro-Tony Stark papers couldn’t ignore it, and even Pepper Potts had had enough, announcing publicly that she was calling off the engagement and suing for full rights to Stark Industries after one of his experiments had gone haywire and nearly killed her, and the government has still done nothing.

She shakes her head, angrily gripping the railing as she makes her way to somewhere she can destress. Superheroes are taking too much of everybody’s mind nowadays. Tony Stark thinks he has moral high-ground just because he signed papers? Thinks he’s better than everybody else? Better than Spider-Man? Thinks he can just speak to _her_ nephew that way?

She stops halfway down the stairs.

Where did that thought come from?

 

Steve doesn’t want to watch the video again, but he can’t bring himself not to. This is what his team has become. Lost and drunk and on the run, shouting their problems with each other and pretending it was about something else. They’d completely dissolved, but it hadn’t been as much as a shock as it should have been. They’d all known that when push came to shove, Tony would do anything to pass up owning his own decisions. He’d done it a dozen times before, and hadn’t they suspected, deep down, that this was the only natural ending? Tony’s guilt eating him away until he took whatever opportunity was thrown at him to remove responsibility from himself? Of course he’d signed the Accords. It must have felt like a relief to make his decisions someone else’s. It made the consequences someone else’s, too.

But now, Tony’s decision is showing on him. He’s angry at himself, so he’s pretending he’s angry at Cap, so he pretending he’s angry at Spider-Man. It all keeps going up a chain of command.

Steve can’t bring himself to follow suit. There are people who need help. Is he supposed to wait for UN approval before he stops a mugging? Before he takes down a gunman in the streets? If something goes wrong, he’ll take responsibility for it himself. Decisions and consequences like that are sometimes made in an instant, because if they’re not, more people will die.

The kid thinks similarly from what Steve can see. Maybe that’s why he likes Spider-Man so much. He reminds him of himself.

As the video repeats itself for the dozenth time, he knows that’s exactly why Tony hates him.

 

Ned doesn’t watch anything past, “Spider-Shit,” because his hands are shaking and his heart is pounding, and a man who almost killed his own fiance is directly threatening his best friend. He’s seen the pictures of Pepper Potts after the attack. Everyone has. Is Peter going to end up like that?

He can picture it too well. Bruises like the ones after his fight with Cap, but worse. Burns from Iron Man’s blasts, and broken bones that would leave him defenseless. And would Stark stop, then? Or would he just keep going until no healing factor in the world could help Peter?

He needs to know why Peter still does this. It can’t just be his need to help people. At first he had assumed it was simply that, but hearing him talk about responsibility the way he did, about his Uncle Ben, demands answers. Grief affects people in a lot of ways, but Ned just can’t see the connection between Ben’s death and Peter’s “responsibility” to New York. He’d known Ben well, and he’d heard the phrase “with great power comes great responsibility” dozens of times, but Peter lived by it. How had fighting criminals ended up being a high school sophomore’s responsibility? Why was he convinced that was the way he had to use his powers?

Peter, facing away from him on the other bed, twitches, and Ned remembers when he had been woken up during one of their sleepovers by Peter’s crying a few months after Ben’s death. He had balled his blankets around himself, shaking and breathing shallowly.

They hadn’t talked much, other than Peter muttering, “I just miss Ben,” through his tears and Ned patting his back and quietly telling him it was okay.

It’s less of a jump when thinking about _that_ Peter starting to be Spider-Man. The Peter who had just lost the man who raised him to a street mugging. Did he do it as a distraction? Trying to forget his own grief? Attempting to make sure no one else would feel that way?

Peter rolls over, his brow furrowed in his sleep, and Ned loses his train of thought. As Peter makes an upset noise, the only thing remaining in Ned’s mind is that May deserves to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> -Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> -Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> -Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> -Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> -Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> -Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)  
> -Steve Rogers helped people secretly during the time between Civil War and Infinity War  
> -Peter Parker became Spider-man shortly after his Uncle Ben's death  
> -Steve Rogers mentors Peter Parker  
> -Tony Stark went slightly reclusive media-wise after the Accords, and his public image was dampened by a few outbursts he made to the press  
> -Tony Stark illegally tampered with government-assigned Iron Man suits, and one of them went rouge and attacked Pepper Potts, landing her in the hospital for weeks  
> -Pepper Potts subsequently called off their engagement and is now suing for full rights to Stark Industries


	14. What Happens In D.C. Won't Stay in D.C.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's missed the Decathalon, Spider-Man's appeared in D.C., Ned's fed up, and Aunt May is smarter than Peter gives her credit for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a wait, guys. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this even with my wonky posting schedule. :) I will admit I'm no less busy right now, so posts might be sparse, but I really will aim for at least once a month. I know I keep saying it, but I do have a plan about how this is going to end! It's not ideas I'm lacking, just time. But I'll try not to keep you guys waiting for this long again!

“Peter, you were on the Washington Monument in an all black costume! You missed the Decathlon! Black Widow is in our hotel room! What the fuck is going on?”

Peter throws his black ski mask onto his bed, pacing angrily. Natasha Romanoff stands in front of the door to the hotel room, watching Ned and him. “What the fuck is going on is that you could have died! Liz, MJ, Flash, the whole team could have! I did what I had to.”

“What you had to do? I thought that was keep your head down! Do you know how easy it’ll be to connect the dots now? You have government agencies after you, you can’t-”

“I wasn’t going to lose you guys!”

“Both of you need to keep your voices down,” Romanoff hisses, cutting them off. “This is a hotel with thin walls, and if your team doesn’t know at this point, you’re about to clue them in.”

The two of them look at her with wide eyes before looking back to each other.

“She’s right, Ned.”

“You’re only agreeing with her to get me to be quiet, dude. You can’t block this problem out forever. May would have to be an idiot not to know now, and she’s actually pretty smart-”

“You’re aunt doesn’t know?” she demands, staring at Peter. Both boys freeze. “Kid, does she not know?”

“She doesn’t need to,” Peter grits out.

Romanoff leans away from the door, crossing her arms and rising to her full height. “That’s not your call, you’re barely sixteen, you still live with her. How does she not know?”

“I’m keeping her safe.”

“Safe? By not telling her she’s the number one target if someone figures out who you are? Keeping her in the dark isn’t going to protect her when she’s hauled in for government questioning and has no idea what’s going on.”

“She wouldn’t be able to tell them anything!”

“You think they’ll believe that? Or care? The only way she can be safe is to be ready-”

The conversation dies when Peter’s phone starts buzzing.

He turns away, feeling Romanoff and Ned’s eyes burning into him as he pulls it out of his backpack. The smiling face of his Aunt May greets him.

“What are you going to tell her?” Ned demands. Peter ignores him, taking a deep breath before answering.

“Peter, are you safe?” she asks, her voice so calm that it fills him with dread. She wasn’t crying, she wasn’t relieved he’d picked up. What was going on?

“Yeah, May, I’m okay. I’m fine. I wasn’t even in the elevator when it happened! I was down at the ground with MJ, I’d gotten a little lost before and I ended up not even being there, it’s really no big deal.”

“I’m so relieved to hear that, sweetheart.” No gushing. No correcting him in calling it a minor thing.

“May, is something wrong?” he hesitantly questions.

“No, no, sorry. I’m just distracted. You’ll be home tomorrow and I was trying to make a list of groceries for tonight. Do you want me to pick up cherries?”

_ Cherries.  _ Of course. Their code word for if something was wrong. He shouldn’t have doubted his Aunt May’s intelligence. She’s not sure if the phone’s bugged, or if he’s free to talk. Thinking about it he realizes he can’t be sure about either of those things either. She’s aware of the risks of even communicating.

That means she’s put a lot together.

“Yeah, cherries would be really great.”

She doesn’t even react, and Peter’s reminded of how little credit he’s given her when it comes to handling fear.

“Awesome, I’ll pick some up. Now, I’m sure you’re exhausted, why don’t you get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk more about everything when you get back.”

“Sounds good.” He’s not nearly as well-practiced, apparently, or maybe he’s just thrown off by how different she is like this, but his voice comes out shaky.

She can tell. “I love you. It’s going to be alright.” Her voice is real and genuine this time.

“Love you, too,” he whispers back, and the line goes dead.

Ned and Romanoff wait for him to say something, but all he can do is stare at his phone. Is she safe? Does she know? How much? Does the government know? Can they track him? Would they come after her before he could stop them?

“Peter, what did she say?”

He doesn’t respond. He tries to, moving his mouth to explain, to question, to do anything, but he can’t.

“Does she know?” Romanoff asks.

“I need to call Rogers,” he replies, vaguely. He looks up at her, shaking himself back into real life. “Yeah, I need to call him. I don’t know if my phone’s secure. Can I use yours?”

She hesitates. “I think I’ll need more information than that.”

“I.” He stops. What is he going to do?

He sighs. “I’m going to just ask him to drop by the apartment. I don’t know. Make sure she’s okay.”

“Make sure he tells her?”

“He-”

“He will as soon as he finds out she doesn’t know. She’s your family. This choice puts her at risk, too, and you’re just a kid.”

“I get that, okay? It just,” he meets Ned’s eyes, their anger and tension from the past few days weighing his shoulders down. “It has to be me that tells her. As soon as we get back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> -Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> -Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> -Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> -Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> -Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> -Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)  
> -Steve Rogers helped people secretly during the time between Civil War and Infinity War  
> -Peter Parker became Spider-man shortly after his Uncle Ben's death  
> -Steve Rogers mentors Peter Parker  
> -Tony Stark went slightly reclusive media-wise after the Accords, and his public image was dampened by a few outbursts he made to the press  
> -Tony Stark illegally tampered with government-assigned Iron Man suits, and one of them went rouge and attacked Pepper Potts, landing her in the hospital for weeks  
> -Pepper Potts subsequently called off their engagement and is now suing for full rights to Stark Industries


	15. Survivor's Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Peter confesses what he's done to Aunt May, all the guilt that's been eating away at him, it breaks her heart. She doesn't understand, but she knows she has to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished this next chapter and can update again! I promise you guys I'm with this story until it's done, even if it takes me awhile. I'm really glad to be back and have some more to give y'all, and thank you to everyone who commented and read this fic while I was busy!
> 
> One thing that I figured I'd let you guys know is that I was pretty upset when Marvel chickened out and didn't confirm Captain Marvel as a lesbian, just hinted at it a bunch, so I went ahead and confirmed Peter being bi in this fic :)

Romanoff tells the two of them she’ll meet them in New York and disappears during the night, while Ned sleeps fitfully and Peter doesn’t at all. Instead, he stays up on his phone, carefully avoiding the news. He rereads every message his Aunt May and him have ever sent, works his way through 25 different Vine compilations, opens up Netflix for five minutes before becoming antsy and exiting out, and finally just stares at his home screen until the sun rises. His eyes sting, and his stomach feels a little sick, but he ignores what his body is telling him.

His phone screen is black, and he’s sitting with his legs crossed and his eyes on the ceiling when Ned wakes up.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“How could I?”

Ned doesn’t answer him, just rolls over and sits up, groggily wiping his eyes. Peter won’t look at him, the ceiling getting blurry.

“Aunt May is fine, Peter.”

“And if she’s not, it’s on me.”

“Not everything is on you.”

“Name me one possible way that this isn’t my fault. Go ahead, Ned. Tell me one other person who’s to blame.”

“Me?”

“What?” Peter finally turns to give him an incredulous look.

“I didn’t tell her, even after you told me what was going on.”

“That’s not…”

“How it works? Why? I thought I was doing the right thing for her and you. Just like you did.”

Peter sighed. Ned still didn’t get it. “I’m supposed to be responsible.”

“You’re supposed to be a human, not some kind of god who saves everyone.”

Ned gets up to go to the bathroom, and Peter can tell he’s more tired than he was when he woke up. He rolls over on his side, facing the closed blinds.

He knows Ned might genuinely believe May is okay, but he’s panicked. Rogers had told him he’d keep an eye on the apartment, and that it had been a smart move not to use his phone. He told him he’d get him a burner in New York, and to delete his number. Peter had done it all without question and with shaking hands, but he wishes he still had it. He wishes he could call Rogers and make sure May was okay, even though she’d already texted him this morning. Her texts were short and blunt, though, to stay safe in case his phone wasn’t secure. It wasn’t comfort he needed. And besides, what if she wasn’t in danger now, but she would be in ten minutes? In an hour? In two? In anytime before he got back home?

Ned comes out of the bathroom to find Peter nearly catatonic. He gets his things ready for him, throwing both of their clothes and chargers into their respective suitcases. He zips Peter’s up when he’s done and puts it by the door next to his own before coming over and sitting next to him.

“Do you want to practice?”

“Practice what?”

“How you’re going to tell her.”

Peter falls silent, his hands gripping the sheet tight enough that it looks like the blood’s cut off from his knuckles. He stares into space, unsure of if he’s trying to work up the energy to respond to him or ignore the question entirely. He ends up mumbling quietly, “Maybe I don’t want you to hear what I’m going to say either.”

Ned’s face falls in confusion and worry, but before he can ask what he means, or even fully register what Peter could have been trying to say, there’s a knock on the door.

“Wake-up time! Bus’ll be here in an hour,” Mr. Harrington calls at them before leaving to knock on the next door. Peter shakes his head harshly, making his mop of a hair into an even bigger mess as he forces himself up, wiping his hands on his pants just to make them feel less numb.

“We’ve got to get ready,” he tells Ned, standing up.

“I left your toothbrush on the counter.”

Peter looks over to the door and feels heat rushing up his cheeks. “Thanks for. You know.”

“No problem.”

He sheepishly walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready, pretending not to be embarrassed over Ned packing up his things like a child.

Ned follows him.

“You know, your Aunt May once told me she’d help me hide a body if I needed it.”

Peter snorts, the statement shocking a response out of him, as he pops the lid to his toothpaste.

“I’m sure she did,” he responds dryly, putting the toothbrush in his mouth.

“Yeah. She’d help me out even I’d killed someone.” He pauses, letting Peter start brushing before finishing with, “Imagine what she’d do for you.”

He walks out, and Peter stares, unsure of how close Ned knows his guess has gotten him.

 

The bus ride is stuffy. All the windows are open, and still people’s words hang like muggy fog in their conversations. Peter and Ned sit in the back again, occasionally texting May and getting brief answers. Ned tries to keep him distracted from the glances the other team members keep giving him, but Peter notices. There’s no way he couldn’t. Not even Flash is giving him shit today, just silently staring and muttering.

To block them all out, he tries to focus on anything else. Him and Ned play the alphabet game briefly before giving up at “Q” and drifting into silence. If Peter weren’t so alert, his Spidey senses going haywire over his anxiety and the stares, he might try to get some sleep. He can’t calm down enough, though, and ends up buying a coffee at one of the rest stops so his body would get on track with his mind.

Liz corners him at the stop, away from the rest of the team as Ned’s distracted by something outside.

“Peter, we need to talk.”

“Hey, Liz,” he squeaks out, pretending that the walls don’t feel like they’re closing in on him.

“You know, it was really confusing up in that elevator,” she starts. “Messy and confusing.”

“Yeah, I would think-”

“So confusing that we were all really sure you were in the building with us before it happened, and then you just didn’t want to get in the elevator.”

What? “What?” he demands, unsure of what she’s getting at.

She sighs. “What I’m saying. Is that every single one of us. Witnessed you in that building. The cameras are too broken for anyone to have any evidence otherwise.”

“You guys… are pretending…?”

“No. No one is pretending anything. We’re just telling you, that if anyone asked us, which they didn’t anyway, we would have made it clear you were with us in the building. You just didn’t want to get in the elevator. You don’t like heights too much. Okay?”

“O-okay.” He shakes his head, collecting his thoughts. He lowers his voice. “You guys would lie to the cops? For me?”

“Adrenaline changes the mind. We wouldn’t have been _lying_. Just remembering funny.”

He kind of wants to cry. Or laugh. Or collapse. Or hug the whole team.

“But adrenaline won’t last forever, Peter.”

He tenses. “What’s the team think?”

“Honestly? They all think you’re friends with him. Flash is trying to spread the rumor that you’re dating him.”

 _They. Flash._ “And what about you?” he asks nervously.

“What do I think? Or what do I know?” She looks pointedly at his wrists before walking away briskly, and he completely panics, running after her.

“Liz, wait, I can explain, I’m not-” he cuts himself off before he can damn himself any further in the middle of a gas station in fucking New Jersey, of all the places his life could go to worse shit than it already is.

“I don’t need to hear it, Peter. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I just thought I’d let you know that if I know, it’s not going to be too long before other people put it together, too,” she tells him lowly. “The media already wants to know why a New York hero was in D.C., and cops are going to look at the team. That could put us all in danger.”

“They already think it’s me, they won’t blame you.”

“What are you talking about?” she demands. “The cops know?”

“It’s complicated, but they have their suspicions,” he explains hastily. “Listen, Liz, I know it’s a lot to ask, and I know I’ve been a shitty friend the past few months, but please. You can’t tell anyone. Please don’t.”

She gives him a shocked look, shaking her head. “Of course I wouldn’t tell anyone. That’s not for me to tell.”

He crumples, pulling her in for a hug that she vaguely returns, surprised at his relief. “Thank you so much, thank you, I-”

“It’s no problem, Peter. Just be careful, okay?”

He nods as they separate, and she walks away towards the bus. Ned comes up behind him after she leaves.

“What was that?”

“Too much for right now,” is all he can say, walking up to the cashier to pay before rushing back onto the bus with Ned.

 

As soon as the team gets off the bus, everyone is tackled by parents and cries of happiness. Aunt May moves her way through the crowd to him and pulls him into the tightest hug of his life, which he happily returns. Without realizing it, he starts crying, relieved to finally see her and know that she’s alive and okay, and she pats his hair down as he does. They hug a lot longer than most of the other kids and parents, and when they finally separate she keeps her hands on his shoulders.

She whispers, “You’re going to tell me everything, okay?” His heart clenches, and her voice shakes as she continues, “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

She pulls him in for another hug, briefly, before stepping away and grabbing one his suitcase. The two of them walk to her car quietly, nervous and happy at once, until they actually reach it. As she goes to open the trunk, he freezes and reaches a hand out in front of her. His spidey-senses are going haywire, and he’s staring at the car.

“Wait,” he mutters. She looks at him, startled, her eyebrows scrunching in concern. “There’s someone in the back,” he explains, looking at a lump in the backseat covered in a blanket. As he tries to plan what to do next without making a scene, his Aunt May pushes his hand down.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “I know.”

Now it’s his turn to be confused, but she simply opens the trunk and tells him to get in the passenger seat. He listens, climbing in and trying not to stare at the back to obviously. She slides in next to him, starting the engine and pulling away.

His palms are starting to sweat as he watches his aunt’s deadly-focused look. “What’s going on?” he murmurs, but she’s on the road and glancing out every window. She doesn’t respond until they’re several blocks away from the school, parked in an abandoned building’s parking lot.

She turns around and says to the blanket, “Coast is clear,” and out comes Steve Rogers, who looks around to take in his surroundings before settling on Peter.

“Hey. Nice to see you outside of the costume,” he tries for a joke, but it falls flat at so-late-it’s-early o’clock in and old and broken parking lot.

“What’s going on?” he demands, looking at them both with panic.

“I don’t know, Peter. I’m sure you could answer that for yourself,” his Aunt May replies, crossing her arms. “Why did you send Captain America to check up on me? How did you even meet him? Do I even want to know? Did you really think I wouldn’t notice an internationally wanted criminal following me around?”

 _You didn’t for almost a full year,_ he thinks to himself, but instead shakes his head. “I just want to make sure you were safe.”

“Me?” she demands, startling him. “You wanted to make sure _I_ was okay? You’re fifteen-years-old and run around at night in some spandex costume that has no padding or protection in it, Peter! If anyone needs to be worried about anyone-”

“I know what I’m doing!” he interrupts, frustrated and beginning to feel his chest rise too quickly. His hands are shaking, and he feels hot.

She notices. Breathes. Lowers her voice. “No, you do not. You have no idea the kind of risk you are putting yourself in.”

“Yes, I do,” he responds, his breathing still not coming out right. He feels hyper-focused, on edge, so when something shifts in the back of the car, he doesn’t even think before shooting a web at it.

His Aunt May is startled, and so is he, but he can barely feel it. She looks between the back seat and him quickly before reaching for his hands, and he lets her take them as he turns around and realizes he’s just webbed the seat Rogers was sitting on before he’d shifted.

“I’m so… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was just instinct,” he rushes to explain, going red from embarrassment along with a gripping feeling of being overwhelmed.

“I get it,” he tells him quietly, assuring him.

Peter looks down at his seat, trying to collect himself. He hates everything right now, and if he were more selfish, he’d be wishing he’d never become Spider-Man at all. Wishing he really was just the teenager his aunt thought he was. But he’s not.

“I just,” May starts before stopping, and he looks up at her. Their eyes meet through her glasses, and he looks away too fast. “I just need to know why.”

“Why what?” he asks bitterly. “Why I lied? Why I kept it from you? Why I do it at all?”

He knows she wants answers to them all, but he’s not ready to explain. He’s not ready to lose everything. “What if I can’t tell you?”

“Why can’t you?” she questions, glancing at Rogers like he might be to blame.

Peter shakes his head, but he’s not sure at what. “You’ll never want to see me again.”

“Do you remember that last time you said that to me?”

“Yeah, well, being bi is a little different than being a murderer!” he shouts, pulling his hands away and crossing them tightly, trying to be as small and as far away as possible.

Both Aunt May and Rogers stare at him, confused, in Aunt May’s case, a little scared. He’d never wanted to see that look on her face.

“I’ll step out,” Rogers says quietly, and neither of them acknowledge him as he gets out of the car.

There’s no going back, now. His bottom lip is shaking, his nails digging into his skin, as he starts, “Do you remember where I was when Ben died?”

May nods, unsure of where he’s going or how to react. He takes a deep breath that comes in more like a gasp for air, and she reaches for him before he moves even farther away from her, shaking his head. Her eyes start to welling up.

“I lied,” he whispered, and now he’s crying as he tells her the rest. “I lied and I told you guys I wanted to go to the library, the one in the bad part of town, and he dropped me off to study and left but I wasn’t there, I didn’t stay.” He wipes at his eyes furiously, trying to catch his breath and talk fast. “I went down to this warehouse a couple blocks away, it was old and hadn’t been used in forever. I’d had-” he stops, breathing and starting again frantically. “I’d had my powers for a month or whatever at that point and I thought I was so cool, sticking to walls and shooting webs and shit, and I wanted to get in some practice, so I turned my phone off and messed around for way too long. It was really late by the time I turned my phone back on and I’d missed a lot of his calls and I tried to call him back but he wouldn’t pick up, May, he wouldn’t and I thought he was looking for me, so I tried to see if he was by the library and then I found him and…”

He can’t make himself go on, and he sits in silence as she processes everything he’s said. He won’t look up, he doesn’t want to watch her tell him to leave, watch her realize that he could have saved her husband, could have prevented his murder, if he hadn’t been such a jackass.

Her voice sounds like she’s crying , too, and he still won’t meet her eyes as she says, “You’ve gone this whole time thinking it was your fault?”

When he doesn’t respond, she reaches for him, and even when he shrinks away she wraps her arms around him. Her cheeks are just as wet as his, and he can feel her tears against his head, and he doesn’t understand what’s happening. Why is she still here with him?

“Oh my God, Peter, it’s been a year and a half and you’ve thought it was your fault the whole time,” she cries, before pulling away just enough to meet his gaze. He couldn’t look away if he tried, now. “Do you know how many times I asked myself why I didn’t come with you two? Why I didn’t drive you there myself? Why I wasn’t with him when it happened? It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known.”

“May, I could have stopped him, on my way out I saw him running, I saw the robber-”

“You would’ve gotten yourself killed, too.”

He doesn’t know what else to say. He knows she’s wrong, he feels it in his gut, and he feels guilty for feeling relieved that she doesn’t hate him. He’s got no arguments, though, so he hugs her again, pretending that everything is fixed, even though he knows it isn’t.

 

The apartment is thoroughly searched for bugs and hidden cameras by May and Peter before Rogers comes in, and it doesn’t take more than ten minutes for him to pass out on the couch, hunched into himself. May puts a blanket over him and he twitches violently, nearly throwing it off before settling down again. She wants to cry, but she also wants to throw something, and while she’s deciding what the better option is, she remembers that Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, is sitting in her kitchen. She turns to see him sitting at the dining table, emptying his pockets.

She goes to sit across from him, pulling out the chair and watching his movements. He doesn’t have much; all he’s put on the table are two burner phones.

“One for you and one for Peter,” he explains. “All the emergency contacts are already programmed in, and everyone has a code name. I won’t give real names, but I can tell you which to call for what.”

“Thank you,” she says briskly, taking one of them and flipping it open. He can tell she’s upset.

“I really didn’t know he hadn’t told you,” he offers.

“But you knew he was a kid,” she snaps, and she sees him shrink down a little. “I mean, he’s underage. Still in high school. And you really thought it would be a good idea to get him involved in all of this?”

“No. I didn’t. But he was already doing it, and I thought maybe I could help him do it safer.”

“Why him, then? Out of the kindness of your heart you randomly decide to help out neighborhood superheroes?”

He sighs, shoulders falling, and she suddenly remembers that he’s not actually a hundred years old, even though his eyes look it. “Some of us don’t have any fight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that, for me, and all the others arrested for fighting the Sokovia Accords, the fight’s over. Lawyers and politicians are trying to work it out, and we’re letting them. But right now, the best we can do is regroup. And maybe, while we’re trying to pick up our lives again,” he looks over at Peter, “we can try to help the rest of us who were hurt by the Accords.”

She looks at Peter, too, and knows he’ll keep going out at night even if she tells him he can’t. Even if she takes away his suit, or locks his windows, or does anything else she could to prevent him from being Spider-Man, he’d find a way.

“How do I tell him it’s not his fault?” she asks quietly. Even if she’s still upset with him, he’s the only other person she could talk to about this.

“Survivor’s guilt is common.”

“In soldiers! Not in children, not in my kid.”

He shrugs, because as much as she wants to say that, both can clearly see it’s not true. “All you can do is believe that it wasn’t his fault. He just needs someone who knows he’s not a bad person.”

She nods, but then quickly shakes her head. “God, am _I_ a bad person? I didn’t even notice.”

“There’s no one better at keeping a secret than someone who’s doing it for selfless reasons.”

They let his words sink between them, and she mulls them over. He’s right, but she still wishes she’d have seen it. He must have snuck out and come back home with awful injuries a thousand times over, and she hadn’t even noticed. Were there not bruises? A limp in his walk? A difference in the way he held himself? She had to have seen the change when he started throwing himself onto the streets to make up for his self-accused crimes. Had he ever come close to telling her, just to think she would never speak to him again? Had she paid so little attention to him after Ben’s death? Was there ever a way she could make him know that she didn’t hate him, and he wouldn’t deserve it if she did.

All she can do is believe in him. All she can do is try to understand what he’s doing.

“Okay. So which numbers do we call when?” she asks, turning to Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> -Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> -Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> -Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> -Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> -Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> -Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)  
> -Steve Rogers helped people secretly during the time between Civil War and Infinity War  
> -Peter Parker became Spider-man shortly after his Uncle Ben's death  
> -Steve Rogers mentors Peter Parker  
> -Tony Stark went slightly reclusive media-wise after the Accords, and his public image was dampened by a few outbursts he made to the press  
> -Tony Stark illegally tampered with government-assigned Iron Man suits, and one of them went rouge and attacked Pepper Potts, landing her in the hospital for weeks  
> -Pepper Potts subsequently called off their engagement and is now suing for full rights to Stark Industries  
> -Peter Parker is bisexual  
> -Liz Allan knows Peter Parker is Spider-Man


	16. Tell Me Your Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do we ever know family as well as we think we do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! The plot is actually starting to build up a little more now, and I'm super excited to keep it going. Saw Avengers: Endgame the day it came out and am still :/ because of a billion reasons, but don't worry! I officially plan on continuing this fix-it throughout the MCU, including Infinity War and Endgame. Get ready for a wild ride, lol!

May and Steve talk until the sun rises, and she really hadn’t expected to like him as much as she does. She knows that, most of the time, it’s a bad idea to look up to public figures, especially ones from the past, but he doesn’t seem arrogant. His Captain America persona may be an exaggeration, but all of the things he’s known for boiled down to exactly who he is. If she’d had to pick who would be helping her nephew learn how to stop crime as safely as possible, he’d be an easy choice. He tells her about how his contact, who he can’t give the name of, had been able to piece together who Spider-Man was, he told her about the first time he’d met Peter, how the rest of the night had gone, and what Natasha had told him. She tells him that she’d hardly even considered the possibility of Peter being Spider-Man until it suddenly clicked into place when Tony Stark pulled his latest stunt, and how she still hasn’t had a proper chance to talk it out with him since he’d been gone on the trip.

“I mean, how do I even begin that conversation? What do I ask?”

“That’s up to you. What do you need to know?”

“That he’s being safe? That he won’t be hurt by the Sokovia Accords? That he’ll put away the suit?” She shakes her head, pulling her hair back and trying to think through his question seriously. What  _ does _ she need to know? This may be her kid, but this isn’t her area of expertise. “What do you think he needs to talk about?”

“You would know better than I would.”

“At this point, I’m not too sure.” She stands, stabling herself on the table, needing to move. “He’s met Black Widow. He’s met motherfucking Captain America, obviously, and he’s got superpowers. What am I supposed to say?”

“He’s the same kid you loved last week,” he tells her quietly.

“Don’t you dare imply that that’s changed, of course I still love him, he’s still my nephew, he’s still the singular most important thing to me in this world, and I know it.”

“Then maybe just remind him.”

She nods, taking in his advice. It makes sense; the most important thing she’d learned in the thirteen years she’d been raising Peter was that kids needed to know they were loved and forgiven. Considering the fact that her whole world had been flipped upside down in a matter of days, she thinks sticking to the basics was a good rule to follow.

“Sorry for crashing last night,” came Peter’s voice, surprising May. She turned to see him standing in front of the living room couch, his hands braced like her own on the table. He won’t meet her eyes.

“Why would you be sorry for that? You needed sleep,” she responded, walking over to him.

He shrugs. “I just know you wanted talk.”

“Yeah, I do, but first we need to make sure you’re not going to have a break down.”

He snorts, and she laughs in a scared way, and then the wood on the back of the couch cracks. He yanks his hand away like he’s been burned, and she wonders if he ever has been. Both of them stare at the broken wood, a small fracture that wouldn’t have been obvious or even important if it weren’t for the fact that her nephew shouldn’t have the strength to do that.

Rogers gets up and leaves, none of them caring where in the small apartment he went to, and Peter starts one of the most difficult conversations either of them have ever had.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything, Peter.”

He shakes his head. “You really don’t.”

She moves towards him and pulls him down to onto the couch next to her. He needs help getting started, so that’s what she’ll offer him.

“How can you do everything you do? Shooting webs, climbing buildings?”

“A spider bit me,” he says, and she laughs without meaning to, because it’s comical. All of this is, and to think that this would have started in such a cartoonish way is just absurd enough to be funny, and he chuckles with her, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t been there,” he says.

“And now you have spider powers?”

“Yeah, I uh,” he fumbles, reaching for his sleeves and pulling them up to show her his wrists. On each are two small, raised bumps that are barely noticeable until both of them were staring. “That’s where I shoot my webs from, and then I can show you my stuff in my room that makes the webs last longer and makes it easier to aim when I’m shooting.”

“Is it hard to aim?” It’s a random question, but she just wants him to know he can talk about all of it.

“I mean, kinda. It’s easier once you get used to it, but it’s easiest if you don’t have to worry about it at all.”

“How did you make the web shooters?”

“Tech class teachers really don’t care about what happens in their classes.”

“Who else knows?”

“I tried not to tell anyone. I… I didn’t want anyone to be in danger because of me. Ned found out after I started going out again, and Liz put two and two together on the trip.”

“What were you doing in D.C.? And don’t even try saying the Decathlon.”

He looks down at the floor before talking. “Trying to find a weapons dealer’s base.”

“What?” she demands.

“Spider-Man does that kind of thing,” he reminds her. “I’d found a bunch of guys up here in New York, and I put a tracker on one of their bags and they drove down to Maryland. I tried to find their lair without the suit so it wouldn’t look too suspicious. I ended up interrupting a deal between the guys and someone else. I tried to stop them and catch them, but…”

“But what?”

“But their leader, this big guy in a metal bird suit-”

“Bird suit?”

“Yeah, he caught me, and him and I fought for a bit, and then he, um… he knocked my out.”

“Knocked you out?” she questions angrily. “As in unconcious?”

“Yeah,” he brushed off, trying to rush through the rest of the story. “And by the time I woke up it was morning and I had to get to the Decathlon, but when I got back to D.C. it was over and the team was touring the Washington Monument. I hadn’t realized that Ned had a piece of alien tech I’d found a week ago, and it… blew up. In the elevator.”

“Like a bomb,” she mutters. “You’d found a bomb, and you hadn’t even realized it.”

He refuses to answer.

“Do you even have protection in your suit? At all?”

“I have a healing factor.”

“Answer the question, Peter.”

“No, I don’t have any padding, but it’s fine-”

“It’s not, and you know it. You’re telling me you spent all that time making web shooters and practicing climbing walls but couldn’t add protection to your suit?”

“That’s not what’s important!”

“Yes, it is! You staying safe is important, how can you not understand that?”

He pulls a hand down his face, his breath hitching. “It’s just not as important as other things.”

“How can you say that? How can you say you’re not as important as… as what? A city? A system?”

“A city and system full of people-”

“And none of those people are my nephew. None of those people are my kid. Your health and safety comes first, before absolutely anything to do with Spider-Man, and I don’t even want to know where questioning that fact has led you. Do you understand?”

He nods, and it stings that she knows he doesn’t believe her.

“Is there anything else you want to know?” he asks quietly.

She leans over to him and pulls him into a hug. “Just that I love you, Peter, and I want you to be safe.”

He nods, burying himself into her arms, and they stay quiet for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key differences so far:
> 
> -Peter Parker is not brought into the Accords by Tony Stark  
> -Spider-man is able to produce webs without technological help  
> -Peter Parker has designed web shooters that allow him more accurate and quiet webbing  
> -Peter Parker sells photos of Spider-man to The Daily Bugle  
> -Violating the Sokovia Accords waves your right to an attorney (while this is definitely implied in MCU with the whole Raft Prison Thing, I thought I'd list it since it's never 100% confirmed)  
> -Uncle Ben died in Peter's freshman year, a few weeks after Peter got bit (again, never specified in the MCU, but since it's never confirmed I decided to list it)  
> -Steve Rogers helped people secretly during the time between Civil War and Infinity War  
> -Peter Parker became Spider-man shortly after his Uncle Ben's death  
> -Steve Rogers mentors Peter Parker  
> -Tony Stark went slightly reclusive media-wise after the Accords, and his public image was dampened by a few outbursts he made to the press  
> -Tony Stark illegally tampered with government-assigned Iron Man suits, and one of them went rouge and attacked Pepper Potts, landing her in the hospital for weeks  
> -Pepper Potts subsequently called off their engagement and is now suing for full rights to Stark Industries  
> -Peter Parker is bisexual  
> -Liz Allan knows Peter Parker is Spider-Man


End file.
